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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803089">Be still(,) my heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerena/pseuds/Lerena'>Lerena</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heart Transplant, M/M, Munchausen by proxy, Richie Tozier's Internalized Homophobia, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:08:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>104,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerena/pseuds/Lerena</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie is mourning the death of his late husband, Steve Covall. Unable to move on, he decides to look for the guy who had been transplanted with his partner's heart, a certain Eddie Kaspbrak. Against all reason, Richie befriends him and decides to make himself a place in his life, while the lies keep piling up...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Past Steve Covall/Richie Tozier - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>🌈Love is love is love is</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Art by thefloralpeach (https://thefloralpeach.tumblr.com/)</p><p> </p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <br/>  </p>
</div>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay! Welcome to my new story! For those who were there for my "Listen to me" series, I'm so happy to see you again, and for the newbies, welcome and have a seat! Know that I'm French and, while I'm doing my best to spellcheck and all, it's very possible that some mistakes might have lingered, so don't hesitate to let me know about it.</p><p>Here are the Trigger Warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for mention of pedophilia<br/>TW for mention of emetophobia<br/>TW for mention of conspiracy theories (antivaxx)<br/>TW for grief/mourning</p><p>I think that's all! Let me know if you need me to tag something! Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>Hey, Rich, </em><em>it’s me.</em><em> I hope you’re finally out of your fucking hangover. I’m gonna work at, you know, OUR production company! If you don’t show up soon, well, I’ll be very disappointed and you don’t like me disappointed.”</em></p><p>Richie found himself listening to the voicemail message for the umpteenth time. He knew it by heart, but it still managed to get a reaction out of him. Maybe it was Steve’s uneven high-pitched tone, as his voice tended to become whenever he was getting annoyed or upset. Richie loved to tease him, if only to hear him chirp like a bird. Steve was always quick to retort, but he was also the one to put an end to their shenanigans. Richie never knew when to stop on his own…</p><p>“<em>Don’t forget to drink and to eat. And take a shower, it should help you clear your mind. I...”</em></p><p>Richie worded the last sentence in a whisper, his lips barely moving, in synchronization with Steve’s voice:</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before he pressed the button on his phone again, listening to the message once more:</p><p>“<em>Hey, Rich, it’s me. I hope you...”</em></p><p>Sometimes, Richie managed to get a relatively reasonable amount of sleep, but not tonight. He didn’t remember how many times he pushed this freaking button, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. He needed to hear <em>it. </em>Again. And again. And again.</p><p>“… <em>clear your mind. I love you.”</em></p><p>Beep. Then silence. And, a few seconds later, Steve’s voice, saying the same words each time. He didn’t know why, but Richie kept thinking that, someday, it might change a little. That Steve would tackle a fond “asshole” at the end of his sentence, because that was so him. Or maybe he would tell him that he was a fucking slob and that he needed to clean up his mess. Their flat looked chaotic, as if some bomb exploded and scattered everything everywhere. Richie knew that, if he were to get up from the couch, he’d walk on an empty beer can before he made it to the kitchen.</p><p>Only one room remained clean and Richie couldn’t bring himself to go there. It was <em>theirs. </em>It was supposed to be <em>theirs, </em>and now it was <em>his, </em>and Richie wasn’t ready to cope with this feeling. He couldn’t. As long as he didn’t go there, it remained their room. When he would accept to sleep on their bed, Richie knew that it would be over. That it would really mean that Steve wasn’t there anymore. And he wasn’t ready for that. How could he ever be ready for that?</p><p>“<em>I love you.”</em></p><p>Richie let out a weird noise, something between a laugh and sob. His emotions were just as disordered as their apartment. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or to laugh, what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to feel. Richie clutched to his late husband’s soft bathrobe, inhaling his scent.</p><p>Whenever they were at home, relaxing from a tiring work day, Steve would spend most of his time wearing it, appreciating the gentle feeling on his skin, the way it wrapped him up in heat and cotton. Richie used to tease him, calling him an “old man” or a “pervert”, waiting for Steve to open it and reveal his nude body. Sometimes, he would actually indulge Richie’s jokes/fantasies, and they always had a blast whenever it happened.</p><p>It was still<em> his.</em> It smelled like him, even after so much time. God, nine months… Nine months since… since… Richie shook his head, chasing away the idea he couldn’t bear to think about. He pushed the button once again, tears streaming down his cheeks while he listened to Steve’s voice, burying his face in his partner’s bathrobe:</p><p>“<em>Hey, Rich, it’s me. I hope...”</em></p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Whenever Richie thought about death, he pictured grieving families, screaming their lungs out, begging for their child, partner, whatever to be brought back, breaking down so harshly that they couldn’t even remain on their legs. Oh, he went through that phase, no doubt about it. Sometimes, he still experienced it, rage, despair and fury taking control over him, sending him into a fit he couldn’t even hope to get a grip on.</p><p>But nothing prepared him for the <em>numbness. </em>Those moments where Richie couldn’t feel a thing, so far away from everything. No feelings. No energy. Just this empty void, so close to swallow him all, but never managing to do it quite. Curled up on the couch as he often was, Richie had turned on the TV, but barely watched it, his eyes looking at the screen without focusing on it. He could have watched a fucking porn movie and he wouldn’t have batted an eye.</p><p>He fidgeted with his ring, his mind trying to convince his body to move. He was stinking and he knew it. His hair felt disgusting, his clothes were covered with stains that he couldn’t really identify, and he was pretty sure that his dentist of a father would have had a stroke if he could smell his terrible son’s awful breath. He knew he should get up. He knew it. He just… Richie couldn’t find the strength to do so.</p><p>Maybe he could get his legs moving, if he ordered some take-out. Not that he was very hungry right now, but he’d probably feel like stuffing himself at some point, trying to fill the emptiness in whatever way he could think of. It never lasted for long. Even with a stomach filled to the brim with junk food, the void was still there. Inescapable. Unavoidable.</p><p>He must have managed to fall asleep at some point, completely exhausted, because he suddenly heard some ruffling and opened his eyes, lazily investigating its source without getting up. His croaked voice barely let the words out, while he struggled to straighten up, pushing on his arms as if he was carrying the whole world on his shoulders:</p><p>“Hi, Bev. Didn’t think I hired a clean lady...”</p><p>Beverly scoffed at his words, putting aside the bin bag that she was holding in her hands. It clinked loudly when it met the floor and Richie reached for his ears, cringing at the sound. God, his head hurt… He didn’t drink last night and yet, it felt like he did, and was experiencing the worst hangover he could think of. Maybe that was what grief was supposed to be about… A big, fucking hangover, without any of the fun stuff before. Lame…</p><p>“Richie, you can’t keep living in this mess.”</p><p>He wasn’t living. He was merely… getting through life. The world kept on spinning, but he was left aside, watching it evolve while he remained stuck. How could he not? Steve wasn’t there anymore. He was no longer there, and Richie’s universe broke down into pieces when it happened, pieces he couldn’t put back together. Beverly sighed at his lack of answer, kneeling down next to him. She frowned her nose at his smell, trying to conceal the disgust on her face, and clearly failing to do so. Richie found himself giggling, without really knowing why.</p><p>“You know that you can’t, right?”</p><p>Richie wasn’t stupid. He knew that, at some point, he had to keep moving. To keep on living. But thinking about that was enough to make him nauseous, as if he was betraying his husband’s memory, accepting that there could be a world without him. Impossible. Just… impossible. Fidgeting with his wedding ring, Richie turned his back on Beverly, unable to bear her pitiful gaze any longer:</p><p>“Watch me try.”</p><p>Sometimes, he forgot who he was talking to. It was freaking Beverly Marsh-Hanscom, his childhood best friend, the strongest person he ever met in his entire life. And she wasn’t going to let a slob like him dictate her choices. Knowing what was about to happen, Richie still groaned when she forced him to turn back and look at her, her hands then caressing his disgusting hair. How could she even touch that? How could she even bear caressing something so repulsing? Someone so revolting?</p><p>“I won’t let you wallow in your misery any longer, Richie. If you don’t leave this fucking couch, then I’ll get you to do it. I’ll throw you in the tub if I have to.”</p><p>Richie wasn’t going to call her bluff, because he knew that she was deadly serious and that she wouldn’t hesitate to act on her threat. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stand on his own two feet, mentally and physically exhausted as he was. He started to close his eyes and was forced to wake up when Beverly flicked his nose:</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“I’m serious, Richie. You’re gonna get up, wash yourself, and put on some clean clothes, because I’m taking you out.”</p><p>He didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to leave their flat. Richie could still feel Steve here, as if he was haunting their apartment, filling it with his presence. Outside, there was none of that. There were lights, people, noise, life, and Richie didn’t want to see any of that. Not without Steve. He grumbled, attempting to turn his back on Bev again, but she stopped him before he did so, insisting again:</p><p>“I’m taking you the “Lava Java”, you can definitely use a breakfast and a mean coffee. Come on!”</p><p>She grabbed his hand, trying to force him up, and Richie sighed heavily, managing to find his words and to tell her out loud:</p><p>“It’s… It’s Steve’s favorite Cafe, you know. The “Lava Java”. We used to go there all the time.”</p><p>At his resigned tone and revelation, Beverly dropped Richie’s hand, shock clearly readable on her face:</p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…!”</p><p>Her embarrassed apology was cut short, Richie letting out a chuckle that didn’t seem sincere at all.</p><p>“I’m fucking with you. Steve would never go there. The coffee is shitty and the eggs taste like cardboard.”</p><p>Richie would like to believe that he wasn’t totally hopeless, given that he had maintained his sense of humor. A small part of it, at least. Beverly didn’t seem to agree with this idea. She clenched her fists, hitting the couch in a nervous motion:</p><p>“Richie, for fuck’s sake! I’m just trying to help!”</p><p>“I never asked for your help! I don’t need anyone!”</p><p>If he wanted to stay here and be miserable, then it was his choice, right? Why Bev, Ben, and Stan kept coming and doing all of these things for him, when he never wanted them to do so in the first place? Maybe they were trying to make him feel bad, since he was taking up so much of their time, between his day-to-day life and Richie and Steve’s production company that they kept afloat, despite a clear lack of management on his part…</p><p>Well, it didn’t work. Unfortunately, Richie had always been the selfish asshole of their group and he’d always be. If they couldn’t understand that, then it was their loss…</p><p>Beverly took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Her voice was sickeningly sweet when she grabbed Richie’s hand and squeezed it, letting him know while doing so:</p><p>“We know, Richie. But we’re here for you. I… If you need to talk, I’m there. I… I know that it’s hard for you to...”</p><p>Richie needed to explode. His numbness was gone, leaving him with a fury that he couldn’t keep buried in his soul. He pulled back his hand from Beverly’s, shaking his head:</p><p>“You know nothing. Stop saying you know a fucking thing about what I’m feeling!”</p><p>“Richie, I lost someone too, I…!”</p><p>“It was your fucking pedo-daddy! He’s dead, good riddance, don’t you fucking dare compare that to what I’m living! You have no right!”</p><p>As soon as the words left his mouth, Richie knew that he fucked up. That he truly fucked up. The pain in Beverly’s eyes was like none other. She quickly stood up, taking a step back, grabbing the bin bag that she let go of earlier. Richie thought she would leave without a word, but she didn’t. Instead, just before she was gone, she turned back to look at him, letting him know with a chilling tone:</p><p>“I’m done, Richie. I’m fucking done. You push back, you push back, but one day, we’re all going to stop trying to reach you. And you’re going to end up all alone. Is that what you want?”</p><p>Richie couldn’t answer. He curled up on the couch once again, pressing the phone against his ear, listening to his husband’s voice. He didn’t hear the dejected “Whatever” coming from Beverly while she was leaving. Right at this moment, there was only Steve. Steve’s voice. Steve’s love. Steve. Steve. Steve.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It was stupid, and Richie knew it. Yet, he was sitting on a bench, glancing at his phone here and there, but mostly looking around, trying to see <em>him. </em>His name was Edward Kaspbrak, he was forty, and he was the heart transplant recipient he was looking for.</p><p>Richie closed his eyes briefly, while the memory of this dreadful day invaded his senses. Steve had been in an awful car crash, brought to the hospital closer to death than life, but still holding on. Richie wanted to believe that they could save him, that it was just a bad moment to handle, a terrible bump on their shared road, but the medical staff had to crush his hopes at some point.</p><p>Steve wouldn’t wake up. He was only alive because they kept him that way. If they took him off life support, he’d be gone. It was up to him to <em>decide.</em> God, Richie had been the one who decided that it was over… The mere thought was enough to send a shiver through his spine, retching and heaving. It took all of Richie’s willpower to prevent himself from throwing up. He needed to remain discreet…</p><p>He couldn’t remember how or why he took this decision exactly. He just knew that, at some point, he broke down and tearfully whispered the dreaded sentence to his husband’s doctor, allowing him to end his life. His organs were healthy enough to be used to save other lives. Someone was breathing thanks to his lungs. Another person was able to freaking shit properly thanks to his intestines. And then, there was Edward Kaspbrak. The guy who had Steve’s heart.</p><p>Richie shook his leg nervously, eyes darting everywhere. What the fuck was he doing? He shouldn’t be there. He should go back to his flat and forget all about this terrible idea. And yet, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t come home, not when <em>he </em>was so close. Richie glanced at his phone, re-reading quickly the mail sent to him the day before.</p><p>A few weeks ago, he hired this private eye, Gretta Keene, so that she would find any info she could get on the heart recipient. Yesterday, she sent him the results of her investigation, and there he was, waiting on a bench in Central Park, trying to find the guy among the crowd. Edward Kaspbrak. Forty. Married. Working at home for some insurance company as a risk analyst (God, Richie wanted to yawn, just thinking about it).</p><p>He received Steve’s heart almost ten months ago, and had been discharged from the New York Presbyterian Hospital three months earlier. Every day, at seven o’clock, he was jogging in Central Park, usually taking a break around the place where Richie was currently waiting for him. The man’s picture tugged at his heart, fucking Karma deciding that he would kinda look like Steve. Short guy, thick eyebrows, looking at the camera as if he was going to murder the person behind it… Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe they weren’t so similar, but to Richie’s grieving heart, they definitely were and it only reminded him of what he lost.</p><p>He started to feel tears rolling on his cheeks and he wiped them aggressively, almost knocking out his glasses in the process. Why was he even here? It wasn’t like he wanted to talk to the guy. He just… He didn’t know. Richie just wanted to see him, see if he was… if he was worth it. It was fucked up of him to think, but he desperately needed to know that Steve’s heart wasn’t keeping alive a basic bastard. He chuckled sadly when he started to think that the man could be a raging homophobe… How ironic it would be.</p><p>Richie wasn’t planning on meeting the guy, which was the reason why he resorted to a private eye and not an official way to see him. What would he even say to Edward? Richie couldn’t imagine a single instance of them meeting without it ending with him bawling his eyes out and Kaspbrak running away from this whole mess. Ew, no. Definitely not.</p><p>Yet, he found himself forced to intervene when he finally noticed the guy, jogging past his bench. His eyes lingered for a second on his red shorts, before glancing at his face, frowning harshly from the effort he was putting in. Edward stopped close to him, leaning on a nearby tree, catching up his breath.</p><p>Richie wasn’t supposed to intervene. He only wanted to see the guy and… and fuck, he didn’t even know what he wanted to do. But certainly not talk to him. And yet, when Edward started to cough his lungs out, his legs barely holding his weight, Richie knew he had to intervene. No one else was going to do so, and, fuck, Edward was so red… And his body, it was shaking! Fuck, no, he wasn’t allowed to die! Not when he was living thanks to Steve’s heart!</p><p>Pushing back the anger that he was feeling, witnessing how carelessly Edward was treating his late husband’s heart, Richie came closer, putting a hand on the guy’s shoulder to get his attention:</p><p>“Hey, you’re okay, dude?”</p><p>Edward tensed up at the touch, turning his head towards him. Between two wheezing sounds, he managed to snap back at him, this feisty little shit:</p><p>“I’m fucking fine! Never been so healthy!”</p><p>Edward coughed up again and his legs buckled under his weight, Richie catching him before he met the ground quite brutally. Slowly and carefully, he guided him to the bench he was sitting on previously, glancing at the guy. His breathing was uneven and he seemed to be barely able to move, his whole body shaking more than a camera in a Michael Bay movie. He tried to reach for his water bottle, in his fanny pack (Richie would have mocked him endlessly for that, if the situation wasn’t so critical), but it slipped from his hands and ended up at his feet, its whole content spilling out.</p><p>“Sh… Shit.”</p><p>“Hey, dude, it’s fine, I…”</p><p>Richie looked around him, noticing a nearby vendor.</p><p>“I’m gonna grab you a bottle real quick, okay? Stay put!”</p><p>Before Edward had the time to say anything, Richie ran to the vendor, pushing a few people nearby, and bought a water bottle, not even batting an eye at the outlandish price. He came back to the definitely-healthy-fucking-fine dude, opening the lid and handing him the bottle:</p><p>“Maybe I should hold it for you? You know, in case you decide to imitate Michael J. Fox again. Really shitty of you, by the way. Mocking disability like that...”</p><p>Edward told him to fuck off, and Richie found himself laughing sincerely, for the first time in many, many months. Yet, he accepted his offer, realizing that he could very well spill it once again. And God, he really needed a drink! Gulping half of the bottle, Edward then deeply exhaled, trying to slow down his breathing. Richie glanced at him, fiddling with his wedding ring, asking sheepishly:</p><p>“So, uh, should I call someone? 911, maybe?”</p><p>Edward glanced at him with a horrified face, shaking his head afterward. Okay, so, no hospital. He probably didn’t want to go back there and end up at the place for six months or so once again… Still, Richie wasn’t going to take any risk.</p><p>“Alright, no hospital. Shame, I was really looking forward to meet Derek Shepherd.”</p><p>Edward coughed up a bit, his hand clutching to his chest, while he retorted with an annoyed tone:</p><p>“He’s fucking dead. Like you’re gonna be if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”</p><p>“Wow, wow, calm down, Norman Bates! I’m the guy who stopped you from meeting the ground, remember? Ground, meet Norman’s face, Norman’s face, meet Ground.”</p><p>Richie swore that he could see a beginning of a smile on this guy’s lips, but he thinned them pretty quickly, asking with a defensive tone:</p><p>“What the fuck do you want? Some… Some kind of reward or whatnot? I’ll pay you back your bottle if you want to.”</p><p>Jesus, was this guy really thinking that Richie helped him because he had some kind of agenda? Well, he had one, sure, but it didn’t involve talking to the man who literally had his dead husband’s heart beating in this chest!</p><p>Richie’s thoughts suddenly came to a halt. He never associated Steve to the word “dead” until he did so just right now. He wasn’t there anymore. He was gone. He was never <em>dead. </em>Dead was… Dead was final. Dead was the end of everything. Richie couldn’t think about Dead Steve. He would never do that again.</p><p>Edward noticed how upset he suddenly was, Richie barely holding back his tears. His breathing now under control, he asked him with a concerned voice:</p><p>“Hey, you’re good?”</p><p>Richie bit his bottom lip, nodding at his words:</p><p>“Yeah, uh, I was just worried. I… You looked real bad, dude.”</p><p>Edward raised an eyebrow at Richie’s answer.</p><p>“Why do you care?”</p><p>Richie rolled his eyes at this little shit’s distrust, even though it wasn’t entirely unfounded:</p><p>“I don’t know, because I’m human? Because I’m not fucking Norman Bates?”</p><p>“Stop calling me like that!”</p><p>Richie found himself smiling weakly at their banter. It almost reminded him of the talks he could have with Steve… Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his glasses, answering with a grin:</p><p>“Then, give me a name, or I’ll keep pretending that you’re Norman Bates. I’m sure you’d look great, disguised as your mom. Almost as fuckable as her...”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up!”</p><p>Edward grabbed Richie’s bottle, drinking it furiously, which was the weirdest thing Richie had seen in a while. He put it aside after that, finally answering with a sulky face:</p><p>“It’s Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. And you? Please, don’t tell me you’re the Zodiac Killer.”</p><p>“Well, I feel very insulted that you’d think that I’m Ted Cruz. But, no. I’m Richie. Richie Covall.”</p><p>Richie and Steve both kept their names after their wedding. They arrived to this conclusion after they realized that they couldn’t get to an agreement on the whole thing and that it would be just easier for everyone else. But even if Richie Tozier wasn’t known so much those last years, given that he was mostly working behind the camera or at the various stages of production, he couldn’t take the risk that Eddie might recognize him. Hence Richie Covall.</p><p>“Thank you for your h…!”</p><p>Eddie attempted to get up, but his legs were still weak and he fell back on the bench, grimacing painfully when he met the wood too brutally.</p><p>“Hey, hey, no need to rush it! I can still call someone, you know.”</p><p>Eddie shook his head:</p><p>“No, I… My wife would worry. And I don’t need to go back to the hospital. I just…”</p><p>He sighed, fidgeting with the zipper of his fanny pack:</p><p>“I don’t even know why I’m telling you that. But I have this, uh, this health condition, and I’m not supposed to overexercise, but I thought I could handle it, given the fact that I’m trying to be ready for the Boston Marathon next year, but I should have really slowed down or taken a break earlier and I fucking didn’t!”</p><p>Eddie talked so fast that it took every effort that Richie could muster to understand a single word of what he said. The guy looked even more out of breath than he was when he was leaning against this tree and Richie shook his head with the beginning of a smile:</p><p>“And you should definitely talk less if you want to run more. You totally wasted your breath right now.”</p><p>“I didn’t!”</p><p>“Yes, you did!”</p><p>“Did not!”</p><p>For a few seconds, they kept contradicting each other uselessly, until they realized what they were doing. Edward groaned, hiding his face behind his hands:</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, how old I am supposed to be, again?”</p><p>“Well, Anthony Perkins should have been 84 years old this year, so...”</p><p>“I already told you that I’m not fucking Norman Bates! Jeez!”</p><p>Eddie crossed his arms with a pout, and Richie struggled with the weird impulse to pinch his cheeks right here, right now. He cleared his throat instead, asking him gently:</p><p>“So, are you gonna be able to go home? Is it far from here?”</p><p>Eddie grimaced at his words and Richie knew that he would have to help him:</p><p>“I, uh, yeah, it’s a bit far. I could take the subway, but it’s a deadly place filled with bacteria and virus, and I can’t afford to spend a second there, so...”</p><p>“So, you’re in need of a drive.”</p><p>Richie stood up on his feet, holding his hand out to Eddie:</p><p>“Come on, I’m bringing you home.”</p><p>Edward’s eyes widened at his offer:</p><p>“No, no, don’t worry, I can call a cab, I…!”</p><p>“You know how fucking expensive it is? I already spared you the scandalous price of this water bottle, I’m not going to let you spend your whole salary on a single course.”</p><p>With the job he had, Richie guessed that Eddie wasn’t poor by any means, but he wasn’t supposed to know that…</p><p>“Besides, you don’t even know who sat in this cab before you. It could be a leper riddled with diseases, for all we know.”</p><p>Eddie scrunched up his nose at the thought, visibly disgusted by the picture he conjured in his mind. He sighed, grabbing Richie’s hand and pulling himself up. Eddie had to lean onto Richie for his support, and he let him do so, trying to not think about the fact that Steve’s heart was right there, beating, alive and well. Fuck…</p><p>Richie led Eddie to his car in silence, unwilling to risk suddenly breaking down in front of the guy. Edward was the one who talked first, noticing Richie’s red car:</p><p>“A Ford Mustang? Really, dude?”</p><p>“What now?”</p><p>Eddie sighed, sitting in the car while shaking his head:</p><p>“I guess I should have expected it. A car for jerks driven by a jerk. Typical.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>Steve bought it to him a few years ago, for his birthday. It had been a joke between them, since Richie had completely messed up his audition for a Fast and Furious movie at the time. Still, it was his husband’s present… If Eddie had anything to say about it, fuck him!</p><p>He tried to keep his tone light, but Richie could feel the anger sipping in his words:</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry, my Liege, that my carriage is not up to your standards. Shall I carry you on my back to your kingdom, as the wretched peasant that I am?”</p><p>Visibly, Eddie noticed the hurt behind Richie’s answer, and he quickly apologized, looking away:</p><p>“Yeah, uh, you’re right. Sorry. Thanks for… you know. Not being a jerk.”</p><p>Richie allowed himself a smile at the “compliment”, turning on the engine and making it roar, just to annoy the guy a little more.</p><p>“Never mind. You’re definitely a jerk. You know how unhealthy and anti-ecological that is?”</p><p>“Duh, Eds. I’m not stupid. I’m perfectly aware of the government’s conspiracy against exhaust fumes. They just want to vaccinate us and put nanobots in our body. I see through your lies Barack Obama, you WICKED WICKED DEVIL!”</p><p>Eddie seemed startled by his words as well as the Voice that Richie chose to use. Noticing his shocked expression, he added, in case he didn’t get it:</p><p>“It’s a joke, Eds. It’s a quote from Alex Jones, you know, the guy that said that water was turning frogs gay?”</p><p>Eddie snorted loudly at his words, before he realized what he just did and hid his face behind his hands, mortified.</p><p>“Don’t… Don’t call me Eds.”</p><p>Richie chuckled, waiting for Eddie to give him his address. God, what the fuck was he doing?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>God, it's so weird to go back to the beginning and write Richie and Eddie as if they don't know each other. What an experience... I think it's gonna be interesting, because they're both older and have a very different life experience from the Richie and Eddie from my previous story.</p><p>I try to keep myself informed about heart transplant and such, but if you see anything that seems sketchy or inaccurate to you, don't hesitate to let me know! I also want to mention that I don't intend to romanticize Richie's behavior. He's deliberately lying to Eddie and hiding very, very important stuff to him for his own gain, so it's neither cute nor romantic. I do intend to address that quite a bit in my fanfic.</p><p>With that said, I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to leave a comment, if you'd like to discuss about Richie's fucked up way of dealing with his grief, Eddie's fanny pack (this chapter's real hero) or anything else. You can also subscribe to the story and/or leave a kudo if you feel like it.</p><p>This story will be updated once a week, twice if I feel like it, but not as much as my previous story, to avoid burnout. I hope you'll be okay with that change c:.</p><p>Take care, have a nice day and see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Welcome to the second chapter of this fanfic! Gosh, thank you for your kind words and for being here for this new story, it's such a pleasure to write for you. I have an ear infection, so writing allowed me to think about something else for a little while c:. </p><p>Thank you for your support c:. Aside from the things I tagged in my story, I don't think this chapter has any trigger warnings. But if you need me to tag something, let me know.</p><p>Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not gonna die, calm down. It’s just a little hiccup. You’re gonna be fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rested his head against the seat of Richie’s car, trying his best to not fall prey to a panic attack. The feeling in his chest was so weird, and he started to get really scared that it might have been the last straw. That overexercising might cost him his heart. Fuck, fuck, fuck… He couldn’t lose it so quickly. This thing was supposed to last five years, maybe more if he was lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was taking care of himself. He never forgot his medication, was careful about his diet, and avoided everything that could put his heart at risk. Gosh, he missed his coffee, sometimes… But he’d rather not lose his only chance at living a normal and longer existence, just for a taste of caffeine. And yet, he pushed himself too hard this time, and… and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He went on WebMD enough to know all the telltale signs that he might experience heart failure: shortness of breath, fast or irregular heartbeat, dizziness… All of those he was currently experiencing. His reason was telling him that it was most likely due to the physical effort he put himself through, but his anxiety attempted to convince him that his new heart was failing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening his eyes, Eddie scrutinized his hands, checking for a potential swelling. Were they bigger than usual? He couldn’t really tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything’s okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stopped at a red light, glancing at him. Eddie still had no idea why this guy decided to help him, but right now, he wasn’t going to complain. He knew for sure that he would have been unable to go home on his own, and Myra would have freaked out if he called her to pick him up… Not that she was going to be perfectly calm when she’d notice Eddie’s current state and the fact that he had to rely on a complete stranger to get back to their flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged at Richie’s question, trying to keep a detached tone while he answered:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just checking if my hands aren’t swelling. It’s really bad if it happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie failed to maintain his matter-of-fact voice, breaking slightly at the end. He bit his bottom lip, turning his face away from Richie, trying to remain calm despite the fear settling in his guts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think your hands are fine, Eds. You’re probably just tired, right? You’ll feel better with something in your stomach and some rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie could swear that the guy was afraid. Scared for him. He raised an eyebrow at the thought, confused. It wasn’t like they knew each other, why would he care? Most people didn’t. As soon as they learned about his condition, they found every excuse to avoid him. Too much work. The kids at home. Whatever. It was probably easier than to hang out with him, always wondering when his heart will fail him… No one wanted to see something like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess. I suppose I'm just tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, adding with a grimace:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry for the inconvenience. You shouldn’t have to drive me home, we don’t know each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shook his head, mustering a smile on his lips, adjusting his glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, dude, it’s okay. I bet it’s gonna give me tons of points to get to the Good Place, anyway. Helping the guy that was coughing his lungs out, that’s gonna be worth at least a thousand points, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes at his answer:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even able to talk without relying on pop culture? I don’t even get half of what you’re saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s not my fault if your culture is shitty, dude! You need to broaden your horizons. Besides...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grinned, tapping on the wheel with his long fingers:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re watching Grey’s Anatomy, Eds. How would you know about Derek Shepherd, otherwise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blushed at his teasing, immediately retorting with an angry tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t… My wife loves it! I’m only… It’s not like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie seemed to understand that Eddie was genuinely upset about the whole thing, because he answered with a calming tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m not judging you. Watch what you wanna watch. Besides, you’re talking to the guy who cries watching Steven Universe and My Little Pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow at his words, fighting the smile that was creeping up on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I don’t judge you, you’re not allowed to judge me, Eds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me Eds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was so infuriating! And yet… And yet, Eddie didn’t feel so anxious anymore. And his hands definitely didn’t swell. He took a deep breath, managing to calm himself down completely. He needed the distraction, and this guy provided it to him, free of charges… If Myra had been the one trying to handle it, Eddie would have ended up in the hospital sooner rather than later, and he’d probably have to deal with a massive panic attack as of now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have the time to think more about it. They finally arrived at his address, and he couldn’t help, but feel disappointed that it didn’t last any longer. Eddie didn’t want to go back to his wife and have her fussing over him. He missed having someone to talk to who didn’t remind him constantly of his health condition. And, even though he didn’t know anything about this guy, Richie offered him this outlet, for a short period. And he didn’t want it to end now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, uh, I think I should thank you for making sure that my face didn’t meet the ground back then, and for bringing me home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie seemed embarrassed by the idea. He shook his head once again, gripping his wheel tightly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, you don’t have to. It’s fine, really. Just… uh… try not to overexercise again, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had a very structured routine. In the morning, he ate his breakfast and then went for a run. He came back, showered, ate a cereal bar, did some small talk with his wife, before it was time for him to start working. Then, he’d spend most of his day focused on his job, only allowing himself a few breaks to eat and take his meds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, he’d spend the evening with Myra, making sure to show her that he took his treatment accordingly and allowing her to check for any possible signs of heart infection or failure, before they could finally relax while watching some stuff on TV. Then they’d go to bed, just to start all over again the next morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rarely deviated from this routine. He was used to having a very tight and inflexible schedule since… well, since forever, and he relied on Myra to offer some change in his life sometimes, maybe a meal at a nearby restaurant, or going on a shopping spree or something. Eddie wasn’t one to take initiatives, and yet… yet, he really wanted to take one right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, I insist. Stay with us for breakfast? Myra would want to thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lied openly this time, pretty sure that his wife wouldn’t want to have anything to do with someone like Richie. He was so far from how proper Eddie always was. His messy hair, his stubble, this obnoxious Hawaiian shirt that he was wearing… Myra would probably hate him instantly. But, for some reason, it only made him want to have Richie at home more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, I don’t know...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you’re not going to refuse a free meal, are you? Consider it payment for the water bottle and the gas you used to bring me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t stop himself from adding, grimacing slightly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even though you should be the one compensating me for making me sit in your pretentious car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughed openly at his words, before he finally accepted his offer:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright. My car is visibly traumatizing you, and I need to make sure you’ll get to your flat safely. Which floor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra had insisted that they got a flat on the ground floor, even though their building had a top-notch elevator. “What if it broke down, Eddie-Bear? What would you do then?”, that’s what she said to him when he started to get impatient, after it took them so long to find their flat according to Myra’s standards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he answered that he’d take the stairs, it didn’t go well, and she felt the need to remind him for an hour that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fragile</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that he needed to take care of himself, that it would be too much for him, and how worried she would be… In the end, Eddie just agreed with her, because it was simple, and because he felt guilty, seeing her cry over it. Because he was a spineless coward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stopped zoning out, noticing that they arrived in front of his apartment’s door. He took a deep breath, fidgeting with his watch, before he finally rang the bell. Myra was probably waiting for him nearby, because she immediately opened the door, engulfing him in a hug without giving a single look to Richie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I was so worried! You were supposed to come home ten minutes earlier, I called you, and you didn’t answer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M… Myra...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look so pale! Did you take your medicine? I told you that this jogging thing was a bad idea, but you didn’t listen! You won’t be working today, you need to rest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know what to say. He felt embarrassed, knowing that Richie was noticing all of this, and, more than that, trapped. He knew that he would give up at some point. That he would be unable to go against her and would agree that he shouldn’t work today, even though he could perfectly do it. His throat closed up at the thought, and he suddenly felt small. Very, very small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra finally noticed Richie, who seemed stunned, watching this scene unfold. Eddie couldn’t blame him, even though he’d really like to. Myra… Myra could be a lot. Even though she meant well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… uh… It’s Richie Covall. I met him at the park, he drove me home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did he need to drive you back? Eddie-bear, what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely looked at Richie, inspecting Eddie’s body instead. When she muttered that his fingers seemed slightly swollen, Eddie felt his gusts twisting with horror, the fear taking over him. Was he rejecting his heart? Was that why he felt so bad? He… He was having a headache too, was he? It was a symptom as well! He… he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Ma’am. I just brought him back home because he seemed out of breath, but this lad here could have done it on his own. I’m just trying to do my good deed of the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow at Richie’s intervention (what was up with the sudden British lingo?), not expecting the guy to lie for him. If he told Myra that Eddie had been unable to carry his own weight due to overexercising, his wife would have forbidden him to practice jogging any time soon, and he would have been hospitalized, he was sure of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh, yeah, he’s right. I told him to stop fussing over me, but he insisted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense, Eddie-bear! Of course, he had to bring you home. You could have collapsed, or someone might have mugged you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at Richie, and reluctantly thanked him. She was about to close the door on him, when Eddie cleared his throat:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we could invite him for breakfast? You know, to thank him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he has better things to do, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra looked at Richie expectantly, but either he didn’t get the memo or, more probably, he totally got her intent and decided to go against it, because he immediately answered, putting a smile on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I don’t. Thank you for the offer, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me Eds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know why this nickname pissed him off so much. He refused to believe that it wasn’t about the “Eds”, but more about the fact that he could actually protest it, when he didn’t dare to do the same every time Myra called him “Eddie-bear”. It reminded him of his mother, and he definitely didn’t need that in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie felt weird, allowing someone he didn’t know in his flat. They rarely had visitors, and it was mostly related to his health, aside from the few times Myra’s family came to visit them. He wondered what Richie thought about it… To be honest, Eddie hated the pictures of him that were plastered everywhere. Especially the ones where he was with his mom. He kept taking them down, but Myra insisted on putting them back every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had the feeling that his mother was still watching over him, and it made him feel uneasy. He shook his head to chase this silly idea, focusing back on Richie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t really have coffee here. Myra’s got some cocoa, though, if you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra gasped at the idea that she’d have to share her precious cocoa. It was her guilty pleasure, and she probably hated the idea that it would go to someone else, even just this once. Richie shrugged at his offer, noticing his wife’s reaction and not wanting to aggravate the situation:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’d settle for fruit juice. Cereals. Anything you got to offer. I’m not picky, you’re inviting me. Thanks, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re… You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sincerely expected him to insist on getting the cocoa, if only to infuriate Myra. But Richie seemed to know when to stop, sometimes, fortunately. Eddie would have hated for him to leave so early. He didn’t want to be alone with his wife so soon… Not when his anxiety just started to die down again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving for a few minutes to take his shower, Eddie came back to Richie and Myra sitting at the kitchen table in awkward silence. Visibly, they didn’t have much to say to each other… Not that he would blame Richie. Myra hadn’t been really inviting in the first place, and when she wasn’t worrying about Eddie’s health, they didn’t have much to talk about either. Eddie was used to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat between Richie and Myra, nibbling at his cereal bar, while this uncomfortable silence lasted way too long. He kept eyeing at them both, trying to come up with something to say, failing miserably. He was about to start panicking again, when Richie finally deciding to try to strike up a conversation, looking around and saying awkwardly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, that’s… that’s a nice flat you live in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I picked it myself.” Myra smiled proudly, adding immediately: “Eddie-Bear needs to live on the ground floor, he might have trouble to climb up the stairs otherwise. You know, with his heart condition...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myra!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie called her out with an offended tone, shocked that she gave herself the right to disclose his diagnosis without asking him first. He should have been the one to choose whether or not he’d wanted to talk about it! And he didn’t want to! He fully expected Richie to ask many, many invasive questions, or to find a pretext to leave and never come back, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked at them both, glancing at his surroundings, before he pointed at a nearby picture, changing topic suddenly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look really cute here. Where was it taken? You were already together back then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was suddenly white, looking at the picture, then at Myra, not knowing what to say. She was the one who reacted, her voice laced with anger and disbelief:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not on this picture. It’s his mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looked at the picture, squinting his eyes, before he did what Eddie feared he would do: he suddenly burst out laughing, unable to stop himself from doing so. It took him a little while to calm himself down, while Myra seemed ready to throw him out, but he finally managed to say:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My bad, my vision is shitty, even with my glasses on. Of course, it’s Eddie’s mom. You… uh… you look nothing alike. Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was visibly biting the inner of his cheeks, and Eddie hated him for being so obvious. How the fuck did he mistake his mother for Myra? Eddie didn’t want to think about it too much, because he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t like the answer. Clearing his throat, he tried to find a way to change the subject, but Myra was faster than him, pointing at the ring on Richie’s finger:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re married! How is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie could clearly hear the implications behind her question: Who would in their right mind agree to spend the rest of their life with Richie? He cringed at the thought, while wondering about Richie’s potential wife. She’d have to handle his stupid jokes all the time… She was probably very, very patient. More than Eddie could ever be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie thought Richie would brag about her, or make a joke out of it. But the way Richie suddenly went pale, letting go of his spoon, his hands trembling slightly… He managed to squeak out, lips quivering:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D… Dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie put his hand over his mouth, glancing at Myra, who seemed just as shocked as he was. Maybe she didn’t like the guy, but she wasn’t heartless, and she didn’t want to see him as anguished as he currently was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m really sorry, Mr. Covall, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She parted her lips to add something else, but she found herself unable to say another word, just as clueless as Eddie currently was. Richie attempted to smile, managing to say out loud:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s okay. I’m f...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even manage to finish his sentence, a choked out sob cutting it off. Richie hid his face in his hands, muttering a “Sorry” barely audible. Eddie finally found the strength to get up and, following his instinct, attempted to hug the guy and provide him some comfort. But as soon as he got close, wrapping his arms around him, Richie wiped his eyes and shook his head:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, I’m okay, no need for the hug or whatnot. Let’s just… let’s just talk about something else, alright? I’m not going to stay long anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, going back to his seat. Fuck, he really didn’t expect that to happen… He barely knew the guy, and yet, witnessing his sudden breakdown made him care about him in a way he never thought he would. When Myra was the one doing the crying, Eddie wanted nothing more than to go away and avoid seeing that any longer. But with Richie… he didn’t know why, but Eddie felt the need to help him get better. To dry off those tears and lift some of this weight that he seemed to carry on his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s voice was still shaking when he started to talk again, but Eddie didn’t bring it up, not wanting to upset him any further:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, uh, jogging’s your thing, right? You seemed to have quite a steady rhythm back there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, managing to smile through his anxiety towards Richie’s actual state of mind. Before he got released, Eddie exercised steadily, to keep his new heart in good shape, but running was really the thing he preferred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been so happy when his doctor agreed to his daily jogging session, although he did recommend that he should take it slowly. Eddie cringed at the thought. He really shouldn’t have overexercised… He’d be more careful next time. If Myra allowed him to have a next time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, jogging is so freeing. And it’s essential for me to exercise, to keep my heart healthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you shouldn’t have to do it so much, Eddie-bear! It’s too much, I’m sure stretching would be just enough… I don’t like knowing you alone, putting so much strain on your heart. You never know what might happen...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed, twisting his fingers nervously. Myra had been reluctant since the beginning to let him run, and he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to oppose her if she truly decided that he shouldn’t do it anymore. She had been in charge of his health for so long, even when his mother was still alive and there to fuss over him. Eddie couldn’t think of a single decision he took without seeking her explicit approval...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myra, the doctor said that I need to exercise and that jogging daily is good for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But is he really reliable? I read on this website that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because a mommy blog is a better source than a fucking doctor, of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t mean to raise his voice. He was just frustrated, and his anger took over him way too often, especially when he was talking to Myra. Every time, without fail, he felt like the worst human being on this earth. Seeing Myra’s contrite face always caused his throat to close-up, and he found himself sheepishly apologizing, while she proceeded to hammer home how terrible he made her feel:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only trying to take care of you, Eddie-bear. God knows that you’re not going to do it yourself! You have no idea how dangerous it is for you to exercise on your own, I…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could run with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie interrupted what was about to turn into a fight sooner or later. Eddie glanced at him with his eyes widened, barely believing what this man just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W… What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… I could definitely use the exercise, I haven’t had the healthiest lifestyle these last few months. And Eddie wouldn’t have to be alone, since I’ll be there. I could keep an eye on him, you know? It’s a win-win situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t want to have a baby-sitter with him. Running was supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>moment. Did he really want to share it with Richie? And yet, Eddie couldn’t find it in him to say “no”. Not just because it would ensure that he’d be able to keep on practicing. But also because Richie seemed so utterly alone, and that he couldn’t bear the idea of pushing him back. Did he use to run with his wife, back then? Maybe they had this kind of activity together, before she died, and he couldn’t find it in him to do it without her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gosh, Eddie wouldn’t know how he’d react if Myra died… Their relationship was less than idyllic, but still. He loved her. She took care of him, as she reminded him again. Without her, he… He’d have no one else. Maybe Richie was in this type of situation as well…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s a good idea. Right, Myra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was scared that she would still refuse, but fortunately, it didn’t seem to be the case. She nodded reluctantly, drowning Richie with recommendations, to make sure that he would take care of Eddie as much as she would, if she were to go with him. She never agreed to run with him, telling him that her own fragile health couldn’t handle the effort or to breathe New-York’s filthy air like that. Eddie didn’t insist, mostly because he’d only offered it out of courtesy, and didn’t expect her to agree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, uh, see you tomorrow, then? You can come early for breakfast, if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra seemed horrified by the idea, but Richie declined it, shaking his head:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine. I’ll be here at seven. It was a pleasure meeting you both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t want him to leave so soon, but he didn’t have any reason to keep him home. At least, he would have something to look forward to, the next day… If Richie hadn’t been there to help, he’d probably be in the hospital right now, and he’d have to give up on his jogging and his Boston Marathon goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Richie left, Eddie tried to sneak off to his office room to work, but Myra didn’t let it slide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you, Eddie-bear, you can’t work like that, you look so tired! Come on, let me put you to bed, I’m taking care of everything today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone was bitter, but she didn’t seem to notice it. Soon enough, Eddie found himself in bed, hitching to get up and to work. Anything rather than spending the day watching TV, with his wife fussing over him constantly… Preferring a long nap to the boredom awaiting to invade him, Eddie closed his eyes, trying to get himself be taken over by sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His last conscious thought was for Richie, remembering his breakdown vividly. Eddie wished he would have let him hug him. He really seemed to need it...</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think I'm going to do like in my previous fanfic and shift Eddie and Richie's POV every chapter or so. I missed writing from Eddie's POV. Poor Eddie is going through a lot, and he still needs to realize fully that he doesn't have to blindly agree to everything Myra's saying. His life revolves entirely around his health, and he can't be happy if it remains that way. He needs to be able to think about something else from times to times, and Richie will provide him that.</p><p>As for Richie... Well, he's a mess and he's trying not to be. He shouldn't have get involved in Eddie's life so much, but he couldn't help it, after seeing how much Myra was overbearing and how much Eddie needed an out. Things are gonna get quite complicated...</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Welcome to the third chapter of this fanfic! Writing this feels so different from my previous work, yet it's so interesting. I hope you like this chapter as much as I loved writing it! </p><p>Thank you all for your support and your kind words, it means the world to me c:. Here are the Trigger Warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for mention of emetophobia<br/>TW for internalized homophobia<br/>TW for homophobic slur</p><p>Let me know if you need me to tag something! Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie sighed, glancing at his ceiling as if it was the most exciting sight in the whole world. Maybe it was, in his messy flat. When he got home after his unplanned breakfast with Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie tried to motivate himself to tidy up his apartment, for some reason. After he managed to put some stuff in a bin bag, he suddenly felt very tired, as if overwhelmed by everything he'd have to do for the place to look decent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for whom, anyway? Beverly wouldn't come back, not after the awful stuff he said to her. He attempted to psych himself up to call her, but to no avail. What would he even say anyway? "I'm sorry I used your molester dad against you", that wouldn't fly well. Beyond that, trying to use his phone put him in an intense nervous state that he didn't quite expect. Every time he held the cellphone against his ear, Richie started to hear Steve's last voicemail and… and he couldn't call. He just couldn't. The only person he really wanted to talk to wasn't there anymore. And he had no idea how to cope with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, for the rest of the day, Richie basically wallowed in self-pity, curling up on his couch and gulping beer after beer, watching T.V. or the ceiling indifferently, as if both were managing to grasp his focus equally. At least, he wasn't drinking anything stronger, right? Progress, yay! Richie laughed darkly at the idea, wiping his dirty cheek. He was pretty sure that his friends, if he could still consider them like that, would disagree with him on this point…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts drifted towards the strange meeting that he had this morning, his mind having trouble to process exactly what happened. He didn't mean to talk to Eddie Kaspbrak, even less being invited to his home. Richie was just supposed to look at him from afar, for… for some fucked up reason he couldn't quite explain. If the little shit treated his precious heart well enough, he wouldn't have coughed his lungs out, and Richie wouldn't have been forced to intervene. All in all, it was definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richie could have backed out at any minute. He could have called a cab for the guy. He could have refused his invitation for breakfast (the most awkward breakfast he ever had). He could have kept his mouth shut, instead of offering to run with him in the morning. God, why did he even do that? Richie never jogged in his life, not even when… when Steve…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie threw his empty beer can angrily across the room, raising his glasses and rubbing his eyes. But now, he couldn't just cancel it, right? Eddie was expecting him to be there the next day. And Richie was pretty sure that his wife wouldn't let him go if he didn't show up, like he promised he would… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced, remembering how overbearing Myra Kaspbrak seemed to be. What kind of a messy marriage Eddie put himself through? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Straight people, amirite?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Richie would speak out loud, just to hear someone's voice, even if it was his own. It felt slightly less lonely. And awfully pathetic as well. What would Bev, Ben, and Stan think of him, if they knew that? Not like he could make it worse, anyway… He shook his head, stopping when it started to make him feel dizzy. Ugh, maybe he shouldn't have drunk so much…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wondered many things about the person who got Steve's heart. He obsessed over it, waiting for Detective Keene to get some info on them desperately. Did they have a family? Were they good people? And there was this cruel question, that Richie couldn't stop himself from asking: did they really deserve to live more than his husband? Steve was no saint, sure. But he wasn't a bad person either. Why should he have to die for someone else to live?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talking to Eddie, Richie realized that he couldn't ask himself this kind of question. He shouldn't. Eddie was… Well, he was a human being, for a start. Someone who got real unlucky with his health and would have died otherwise. And even now, he still had a lot to deal with, from what Richie had been able to witness. He seemed nice. Weird, angry, and definitely judgmental, but Richie appreciated talking to him. Riling him up so easily, as if they were kids teasing the shit out of each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would never have imagined that he'd be married to someone like Myra. His behavior was completely different when his wife was around, and it was heartbreaking to see. She seemed more like a mother to him than anything else, and… well, she definitely looked a lot like Eddie's mom, according to the picture he saw of her. A few years ago, Richie would have had a blast writing about this guy's mommy issues. Now, he just felt sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn't happy in his life. That much was obvious. He seemed to spend most of his time worrying about his health (and Richie couldn't really blame him), and he let his wife walked all over him without much of a protest, as if it was perfectly normal. Eddie barely reacted when she disclosed his diagnosis to Richie, even though he definitely noticed that it had upset him. And he most likely would have given up on his daily jogging if Richie didn't intervene to reassure Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that the life that Steve's heart would lead now? An unhappy existence, trapped in the body of a person who couldn't stand up for himself when it mattered the most? Steve never let anyone give him shit. He would have dumped Richie's ass long ago if he tried to pull Myra's controlling behavior on him. Not that Richie would ever think to do that… But Eddie? Eddie just accepted it. And it left a very bad taste in Richie's mouth…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck are you doing, Trashmouth?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was getting invested in this guy's life, and he shouldn't. Richie never wanted to talk to him. And now, they were planning to go running together daily, as if it was perfectly normal to do with a total stranger. Richie guessed that Eddie wasn't much of a social butterfly, if he jumped on the first opportunity to share someone else's time so quickly. Not that Richie was really better, especially since…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his bottom lip, chasing this thought as quickly as possible. He forced himself to think about Eddie, so that he wouldn't have to obsess over Steve as he usually did. So, running with the guy… Richie would have to wear something other than his usual Hawaiian shirts. He probably had some sweatpants he could put on, lying around in his flat, as well as a few pairs of sneakers. It would do just fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie should stop all of that, right now. He wasn't supposed to meet Eddie, to talk to him or spend time with him. He knew that it was a terrible idea, especially given the fact that Richie didn't want to talk to him about Steve. Oh yeah, sure, Eddie would really love to know that the heart that saved him belonged to Richie's husband, now long gone… Not creepy or weird at all. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to cancel their plans. Not after what he witnessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve deserved to be happy, in any way possible. His heart was still beating, in Eddie's body, and if Eddie wasn't satisfied with his life, then Steve… Steve wouldn't be either. Richie had to do something. For them both. He couldn't stay away, he just couldn't. Even though he promised himself he wouldn't get close to the guy…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours ticked by, slowly, but surely. Richie barely managed to catch some sleep, and he was definitely exhausted when his alarm clock beeped, letting him know that he should get up and get ready for what was yet to come. His steps were wobbly, hesitating, and his mind was cloudy, definitely not totally woken up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie poured himself some black coffee, munching on some speculoos that he came across, lying around. How old was that thing? He didn't know, and he didn't care. It tasted just the same as new, anyway. Putting on his "sports uniform", Richie washed his face, trying to erase last night's traces. God, he really didn't want to run… Why Eddie wasn't a walker instead of a jogger, Richie couldn't wrap his mind around it. He was probably some kind of masochist… Maybe he even appreciated how his wife treated him, in a fucked up "Fifty Shades of Grey" kind of a way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckled at the thought, but chased it away pretty quickly. It was obvious to anyone, but probably Eddie himself and Myra, that he didn't like how his wife treated him. It was no laughing matter. If anything, it was actually quite sad and pitiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie took a deep breath, managing to will himself to leave his flat and take his car. He drove to Eddie's apartment, raising an eyebrow when he noticed him outside of his building, stretching his arms, his eyes darting all around. Was he waiting for him? For how long? Richie was on time, after all… He parked his car nearby, smirking when he noticed Eddie was still wearing red shorts, revealing his slender legs. Part of him was tempted to ogle shamelessly (hey, Richie was human. And gay. Very gay), but he decided against that, trying to get Eddie's attention:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Eds!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie's eyes immediately met Richie's, snapping an instantaneous "Don't call me Eds!" before looking at him with a critical gaze:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really? You're wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pointed at Richie's shoes, before he crossed his arms, a disapproving expression on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do I need to remind you that we're supposed to run? With this kind of shoes, your ankles will snap in no time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugged, glancing at Eddie's shoes. Yeah, definitely runner shoes. He was obviously better prepared for this than Richie was. But he couldn't bring himself to care about it. At least, if he broke his ankle, Richie would have a good excuse to stop running with Eddie. And prevent himself from acting like the jackass that he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello to you too, Eddie." Richie's sarcastic tone was on point, as always. "Me? Oh, I had a very good night, thank you very much. And you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes at his words, but he mumbled a "hello" and answered anyway, massaging his neck:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I had a good night. Let's cut the small talk or do it while we're walking, we have to reach Central Park. And no, we're not taking the subway! That thing is a nightmare."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, alright! Wanna get in my car?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gave a quick look to Richie's red Ford Mustang, before he shook his head and started to walk:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Definitely not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckled at his determination, following his quick step. Eddie would most likely start to run when they'd get to Central Park. He didn't have to worry about the cars or anything like that there. It gave Richie some time to accept what was about to happen: he was really going to jog with someone… Him, Richie Tozier. Steve wouldn't be able to believe it… Neither Bev, Stan, or Ben, that was for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, uh, your warden released you for your jog?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow at his words, snapping back at him immediately:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's not funny. And I'm not waiting for her permission to run."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bit back the sarcastic commentary he wanted to make about what Eddie just said. He was pretty sure that he was, actually. Eddie wouldn't have moved an inch, if Myra didn't explicitly allow him to do so. But Richie was pretty sure that Eddie would tell him to fuck off if he brought that up to him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good. Good, good, good. I hope your tiny legs will keep up with mine, Eds! I won't wait for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie just tried to joke, but he definitely steered Eddie's competitive side. The guy started to laugh openly, shaking his head with disdain:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really? You're telling me that, with your outfit? I'd outrun you in a second. And I have a fucking heart disease."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie suddenly went silent after his own words, hiding his mouth behind his fingers, as if he couldn't believe what he just said. Richie guessed that he wasn't used to talking about his condition, especially not in this way. Myra wasn't one to appreciate this type of gallows humor, Richie was sure of that. After a little while, Eddie shook his head and sighed, glancing at Richie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, ask your questions. I'm sure you're dying to know more. Shoot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um, I'm good, thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie definitely didn't expect to hear that from Richie, but he genuinely didn't want to talk about Steve's heart, not if he could avoid it. Before Eddie insisted, they arrived at the park, and his focus shifted on their run, visibly impatient to start jogging. He barely left Richie any time to prepare himself, starting on a steady rhythm that Richie had to keep up with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely a minute after, he already wanted to stop. God, why did he offer to do that? It was the stupidest idea Richie ever had. His body was screaming for some relief, and he could feel his energy draining at every step, his breathing out of control. Richie probably looked like one of those french pitbull dogs, inhaling and exhaling so noisily that people would be able to hear him coming from miles away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"F… Fuck… I think my side stitch has a side stitch. I…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie turned back to look at him, still running while doing so:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you can spare some efforts to talk, you can definitely keep on running."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced at his words, his mind wandering back to his teenage years. God, Eddie was worse than the worst P.E. teacher Richie ever had…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"At… At least, you could… slow down… You know, for your heart."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am slowing down! I slowed down just for you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, so that was Eddie running effortlessly? Jesus! Richie was sure that his lungs were going to give out, pretty much at the same time as his legs. Soon enough, his light jogging got wobbly, Richie having trouble to run straight. Noticing his behavior, Eddie stopped, running in place and keeping his rhythm, glancing at Richie suspiciously:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie, tell me what you had for breakfast."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh… Coffee? And some speculoos, I guess?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stilled at his words, looking at Richie with a gaze full of disbelief. Richie let out a confused chuckle, his mind cloudy after his short run, his mouth betraying him in the process:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Also had a few beers yesterday. 'Think that's why I'm seeing two of you. Or maybe it's the glasses..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shut up!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grabbed Richie's arm, and Richie immediately stopped laughing, letting the little guy guide him wherever he wanted to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe you were really going to jog without anything in your stomach. And no, speculoos are definitely not enough! What about fruits? Cereals? Vitamins? You know, healthy stuff?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do I look healthy to you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie intended it as a joke, but it was too close to the truth to really be one. He didn't have the slightest control over his breathing or the way his body moved, and he was pretty sure that his knees would give up under his weight if he didn't sit down real soon. Eddie seemed to be aware of it, because he helped him to a nearby cafe, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bluestone Lane</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie fell on his chair more than he sat on it, resting his head on his crossed arms. Eddie kept glancing at him with a disapproving look, until Richie managed to snap back, his breathing uneven:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on… spit it out… dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't… I can't fucking believe it!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked legitimately upset. Richie was getting anxious that he was putting too much pressure on his heart, nervous as he currently was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You knew we were going to run! You knew it, and you still skipped breakfast!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speculoos, Eddie. I had speculoos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little shit retorted with an angry flick on Richie's nose, the pain causing him to yelp helplessly while Eddie kept ranting, seemingly unaware that a waiter was trying to get his attention:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know what the fuck I mean! For fuck's sake, you could have fainted! Or… Or even worse! How much did you drink yesterday?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugged, mostly because he wouldn't know how to answer, and Eddie seemed ready to scream. He took a deep breath, putting a hand over his heart, visibly trying to calm himself down:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can't… You can't do that. You're supposed to be the one to watch over me, remember? That was the whole deal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I had the feeling you didn't want a baby-sitter, Eds."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could even answer Richie's remark, the waiter cleared his throat noisily, finally managing to get Eddie to focus on him. Eddie apologized sheepishly, ordering some almond oatmeal and an orange juice, insisting for his order to be gluten and dairy-free, before shoving the menu into Richie's face. He grabbed it quickly, skimming over it, grimacing at the options he could pick:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It looks disgusting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie seemed offended, just as much as the waiter:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's healthy!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's what I just said. Fuck, I guess the salmon toast looks okay-ish. And a long black coffee, please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head at his order, adding authoritatively:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He'll have an orange juice. And replace the coffee with organic tea."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring Richie's weak protest, the waiter nodded and left to get their order, while Eddie tapped his fingers on the table, launching himself into another of his rants:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to puke your guts out, or do you actually want to get some energy for the day? We'll skip on the jogging for today, but I'm not going to leave you if I'm not sure that you have something healthy and consistent in your stomach. Jesus, it's the 101 of any sports practice, not doing it on an empty stomach! What was I supposed to do if you fainted?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kiss me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie's eyes widened at Richie's joke, who added sheepishly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like the prince in the fairy tales? You know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could clearly see that Eddie was struggling to keep his straight face. He finally sighed, glancing around to see if their waiter was coming back:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're no Sleeping Beauty, Richie. But you'd make a convincing frog, I guess."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"At least, it still means that I'm a prince. Even if I'm a batrachian."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie finally allowed himself to laugh a little. He looked relieved to see their order arrived and insisted for Richie to start eating, seemingly convinced that he would faint at any given minute. Munching on his salmon toast, Richie thought it wasn't so bad, and the organic tea brought a bitter taste to it all as well. But he would never admit it, not to Eddie's face…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was glancing at his almond oatmeal, toying with it, using his spoon. He seemed to count every little thing he could see, only starting to eat when Richie had engulfed half of his toast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Scared to find some Borrowers on your food?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked at him with a bewildered expression, letting out a long sigh:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes, I even wonder if we speak the same language, Richie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, the Borrowers! It's a classic! Arrietty, Peagreen, tiny, little human beings, barely higher than a thumb? Ring any bell?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had no idea what he was talking about, and it was obvious. What kind of childhood did he have if he didn't even read the Borrowers? He could have at least watched the movie!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus, Eds, did you grow up in some Mormon village or something?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie choked on his orange juice, and what Richie thought would be a tasteless joke seemed to be closer to the truth than he expected. Wiping his face carefully, Eddie answered, avoiding Richie's gaze:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S… Something like that, I guess."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pieces of the puzzle were slowly starting to form a clear picture in Richie's mind. Eddie definitely had a secluded life, probably from the get-go. The only snippets of pop culture he seemed to witness were probably coming from Myra. Mostly, at least. Did he ever spend a single Sunday morning watching cartoons, while eating his breakfast? Richie doubted it ever happened. And it made him feel sad in a way he couldn't really explain…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We gotta make a deal, Eds."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't call me Eds."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ignored his protest, adding while engulfing the rest of his toast, provoking (deliberately) Eddie's disgusted expression:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll eat healthy breakfasts from now on, and I'll run with you in the morning, every day. But I need to expand your horizon, because it's so fucking little, smaller than the Borrowers."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie found himself laughing at Eddie's puzzled expression. His eyebrows were furrowed intensively, as if he just tried to explain to him the theory of relativity or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Movie nights. Or days. Or mornings, I don't give a fuck. But you gotta learn what the Borrowers are. And The Goonies. And Indiana Jones. And..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know who Indiana Jones is, fuck you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grinned at Eddie's outburst, asking with a knowing expression:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But did you watch any of the movies?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blushed at his question, shrugging quietly, probably not wanting to admit that he didn't watch it. He merely mumbled, squirming on his chair as if Richie was grilling him for some Intel on a drug cartel:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Myra thinks it's too violent..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn't even laugh at that, baffled by what Eddie just admitted. Was he talking to some young teenager or to a man in his forties? Did he really just say that he never watched a movie because his </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought it was too violent for him to handle? Fuck… What was next? Did he have a GPS on him at all times, so that Myra would know where he was? Richie wasn't sure he wanted an answer to this question. He probably wouldn't like the truth…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, Eds, you're forty, you don't have to ask for your mom/spouse's permission to watch a movie!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's not my mom! Shut the fuck up!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie seemed legitimately hurt by the implication, but Richie couldn't stop himself from poking out, too shocked to realize that he was going too far:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, what? You're Oedipus, in the flesh? Fuck his mom, kill his dad?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slammed his glass on the table, so violently that it shattered, every customer and employee's focus snapping back on them:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My dad died from cancer, you fucking asshole!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie cursed his motormouth, the way he was unable to think a little before saying anything. Eddie's breath was clearly uneven, and his face was red, really red. God, he didn't mean to upset him that much… Was he okay? He didn't seem to be…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie's apology was barely audible, his fingers fidgeting nervously with his fork, while he repeated in a broken voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so sorry..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hid his face behind his hands, trying to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He failed clearly, his shoulders shaking from the sobs that were escaping his closed-up throat. He didn't mean to hurt Eddie like that… To hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that… He… Richie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie seemed to calm down instantly when he noticed Richie's distress. He paid for their orders and led him outside to a quieter place, guiding him to sit down against a wall. Richie still tried to hide his face behind his fingers, but Eddie didn't let him do so, prying them from his head with a strength he didn't imagine, coming from the little guy:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm an asshole. I'm… I'm the fucking worst."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, hey, none of that." Eddie shushed him, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "That was definitely out of line, but I've heard worse. And… And you're not entirely wrong, I guess."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie raised his gaze towards Eddie, who shook his head instantly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you! I'm not… I'm not angry, I swear. I was just… it was a little too much. I'm not used to people challenging me like that. And family is a sensitive topic for me, so…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sniffled, nodding at Eddie's words:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Got it." He mimed the action of zipping his mouth. "Won't talk about your family anymore. Sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's good. It's all good. I won't talk about your wife either, I promise. Unless you want me to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tried to say something, to correct him, to tell him that he had a husband, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, old shame creeping up on him as if it never really left. His sobs got more intense, and Eddie started to panic, ranting quickly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, okay, I won't even mention it again, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I have such a shit brain sometimes, they should have replaced it before they took care of my heart..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn't relax, not when Eddie kept mentioning his husband unknowingly. Finally, Eddie went quiet, sitting next to Richie, waiting for him to calm down. He put his hand on Richie's shoulder and squeezed it clumsily, attempting to show him comfort. When Richie finally calmed down, Eddie apologized again:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, I… I can't even imagine how you're feeling. I..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He definitely couldn't. Not when Steve's heart was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a body that wasn't the one he was supposed to belong to. Richie resisted the impulse to rest his head against Eddie's chest, attempting to hear its beating. If he did, he wouldn't be able to hide the truth any longer… And Eddie would hate him for that, right? He would hate him, the liar, the fag, the pathetic Richie Tozier…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie needed him. He needed Steve in his life, in whatever way possible. He couldn't alienate Eddie, not under any circumstances. Raising his glasses and rubbing his eyes, Richie added gently:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know, I was serious. About the movie night. Or day. Or morning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit down his lip. Richie figured that he was thinking about Myra and wondering if she would even allow him to do so. Geez, if he thought about it a little longer, Richie would start crying again…</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll… I'll think about it. I promise. I guess, it wouldn't hurt… My movie culture is definitely weak. And I don't know too many shows either. Although..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled awkwardly, massaging his neck:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My mom let me watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain Noah and His Magical Ark</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sometimes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My condolences on the death of your childhood, Eds."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie openly snorted at his witty retort, and Richie managed to smile again, despite everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, you should probably go back home. You're working, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shrugged at his words, as if he didn't care at all:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Myra called my job to tell them I was too sick to work for the rest of the week. I'm pretty much free."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was about to offer him to spend some fun time somewhere else, when Eddie grimaced:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But Myra's going to worry. I'm not supposed to stay out that long. We should be going back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wanted to tell Eddie so many things. To shake him up a little and remind him that he didn't have to obey Myra's whims, that he wasn't a kid anymore. But he didn't have the heart to do that. He was tired. Really, really tired...</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Richie and Eddie are both a mess, in their very own way... I think they need each other to recover and find meaning in their life, but until Richie decides to be sincere, it's gonna be impossible for them to be truly happy. But saying the truth will inevitably hurt them as well, so it's complicated... Richie really puts himself into a messy situation, there.</p><p>Eddie lived a pretty secluded life, given that he didn't have most of the Losers to rely on during his childhood. I'll talk about it more later, but Sonia had definitely a stronger grasp on him in this fanfic than in canon. As a result, there are so many things he doesn't know about...</p><p>Fun fact, I originally planned for him to say that he used to watch VeggieTales, but it wasn't old enough to be accurate, so I used Captain Noah instead, it looked cheap, strange and religious enough. </p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of it, I'd love to know what you thought about Richie's reckless behavior in this chapter or what we started to see of Eddie's childhood/later life. You can also subscribe to the story if you wish to, as well as leave a kudos. </p><p>Thank you for your support! Take care, have a nice day and see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Welcome to the fourth chapter of this fanfic! I hope you're doing fine c:. This chapter was really interesting to write, I'm getting the hang of Eddie in this fanfic (really different from the one I used to write). </p><p>I hope you'll like it! Here are the Trigger Warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for gaslighting<br/>TW for infantilization</p><p>I think that's all c:. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie promised himself that he would talk to Myra about the movie night/day/morning Richie suggested they’d do together regularly, as soon as he would get home. He didn’t. When he went back to his flat, Eddie tried to psych himself to do so. But every time he parted his lips, his mind warned him about what he would have to handle, and he couldn’t find the strength to go through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew his wife. He could almost predict every single word that she would tell him if he dared to ask. And what would he answer? What would he even say? Nothing. Probably nothing. Because that’s how Eddie was. Because he couldn’t say “no” for too long to his wife, without feeling like the worst being ever born on this planet. She dedicated her whole life to him, and that’s how he was thanking her? He didn’t want to have this discussion. He couldn’t have it. So, he kept his mouth shut about it, for two whole weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to have this experience with Richie, at least once. He felt weirdly excited, thinking about a moment spent with a friend, away from Myra. His whole existence revolved around his mother, then Myra, and Eddie couldn’t say he really ever had a friend to share his time with. Well, there were Mike and Bill, the kind neighbors with whom he would chit-chat whenever they saw each other in their building, but Eddie wasn’t naive enough to think that they were</span>
  <em>
    <span> friends. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Friends would call each other (he didn’t even have their number, for fuck’s sake). They’d plan to spend time together in whatever way possible, if only to enjoy the other’s presence. They knew things about each other that no one else was aware of. As nice as Mike and Bill were to him, they weren’t his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Richie? Well, they did have their daily jogging. Since their first disastrous session, Richie had kept his end of the bargain and made sure to eat well enough before they would run. Eddie kept his pace light and easy on his jogging partner, but he had the feeling that he wouldn’t need to do so for too long, if Richie didn’t give up on the efforts that he was making. Eddie wasn’t worrying so much about him. Well, not about his physical condition, at least…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They did talk quite a bit when they weren’t running. Eddie had the feeling that his smothering world was opening itself, thanks to Richie’s presence, and it was an undeniably pleasant experience. He never had someone like him in his life. Someone so different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Richie had his obnoxious side (and a terrible taste in fashion and cars), but it was clearly outweighed by the rest of his personality. Eddie found himself laughing at his awful jokes, even when he desperately tried not to, too proud to admit willingly that he was really amused by his immature humor. And he was clever, more than Eddie thought he was at first. Sometimes, Eddie would be so engrossed in their discussion that he’d forget that he was supposed to come home right after his jogging, much to Myra’s dismay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They barely talked about Eddie’s health condition, and, frankly, it was an incredible relief. He hadn’t realized how much his daily life revolved around his heart, until he noticed after a session with Richie that they hadn’t even mentioned it once. It wasn’t like Richie straight-up ignored it, but he didn’t feel the need to bring it up constantly, preferring to make some small talk with Eddie and getting to know him more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, was Richie a friend? Was it even possible to make a friend on such short notice? Eddie wanted to. He really wanted to. He didn’t remember the last time he looked forward to something as much as he was impatient every day to run with Richie. He wasn’t sure he ever did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wanted to see him more. This movie time seemed really enticing, and yet, he still didn’t ask Myra. Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it was getting to his nerves, frustrating him to no end. He had been way harsher than he usually was with his colleagues and patrons, nitpicking on the smallest thing, and he even lost his cool with Myra once, when she kept insisting that he was “sickly pale” and that he shouldn’t run the next day. Obviously, Eddie felt terrible for what he did and proceeded to shower Myra with affection and attention, so that she would forgive him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Richie asked him if he was still up for it, Eddie tried to change the topic, but his “friend”, or whatever he was, insisted, asking him jokingly if his leash was held too tight. Needless to say, Eddie didn’t really take it well. And before he had the time to think about what he was saying, Eddie had already promised Richie that he would be there at his flat next Friday. Seeing Richie’s genuine smile at his words, Eddie didn’t dare to take it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now… Well, now, Eddie needed to have this conversation with Myra. Maybe he could lie. Pretend that he had an appointment with a doctor or something. But she would know. She always knew, and Eddie wasn’t able to lie to her very long, too ashamed to keep up the charade. He even spilled the beans when he went behind her back to buy her a gift for her birthday, even going as far as telling her what he got for her, after Myra asked him continually where he had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were both sitting on the couch, Myra knitting a scarf, Eddie attempting to read some book, but unable to focus on it long enough to have any idea what it was about. He had already tried to ask her twice, his words remaining stuck in his throat. Come on, it shouldn’t be so hard! “Myra, I’d like to have a movie night with Richie from time to time”, it was easy enough to say! Why was he so nervous about it? Why were his palms so sweaty?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie took a deep breath, trying to calm his anxiety. He wasn’t used to asking things and, when he did, he usually knew that Myra would say “yes”, because he would demand stuff that wouldn’t upset her. The only exception was his jogging, and Eddie had his doctor to back him up and help him convince her. But watching movies with Richie? It wasn’t specifically good for his heart. It wasn’t bad either, but he wasn’t sure she would see it like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, Eddie knew he had to talk about that with her. Sure, he wanted to spend more time with Richie, but it was obvious that Richie needed it just as much. There was a dark cloud hovering over the man, the death of his wife weighing on his soul in a way that Eddie couldn’t imagine, and Eddie had the feeling that he was deeply lonely. Maybe it would help him to feel better, even if it was just a bit more?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For Richie, come on! You can do it, Eddie!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few deep breaths, Eddie cleared his throat, attempting to get Myra’s attention. She stopped knitting, focusing wholly on her husband:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything’s okay, Eddie-bear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie found himself stuttering, shaking his leg nervously:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh… I’m okay, Marty, I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile crept up on Myra’s face, and she asked, putting away her needles:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have something to ask me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused. How did she…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re always calling me Marty when you do. I don’t know if you ever noticed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O...Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blushed a little, feeling incredibly self-conscious. He remembered how he used to call his mother “Ma” when he tried to get her to agree to let him do something, as if to sweeten the blow, and he just realized now that he was doing the same thing with Myra. He hoped Richie would never know about that. He would tease him endlessly, for sure…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask me anything, Eddie-bear. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t so sure of it, but he kept this thought to himself. Instead, he rubbed his chest nervously, the words spilling out of his throat too quickly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“CaniwatchamoviewithRichie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra looked definitely confused, as she often was when Eddie didn’t control how quickly he’d talk. Sometimes, his mouth wasn’t able to keep up with how fast he was thinking, and that’s what usually happened. She sighed, shaking her head:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I hate it when you do that. Just take the time to articulate properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, and he forced himself to repeat slowly, unable to look at Myra while he did so:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I watch a movie with Richie, next Friday? He… uh… He offered me to do so and… and… and I thought it could be fun. You know...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra grimaced at his words, and Eddie knew that it was already doomed:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would rather spend my evening with you alone, Eddie-bear, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed to think that Eddie wanted her around for this thing, but it wasn’t the case, and he gulped, managing to whisper awkwardly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh… Just Richie and me. At… At his place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He added for good measure, a trembling smile on his lips:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he glanced back at Myra, he knew that she wouldn’t yield so easily. She seemed genuinely hurt by his words, biting on her bottom lip for a short moment, before she asked him, her voice shaking with incoming sobs:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie-bear… What did I do to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, no, no, no! He didn’t want Myra to cry, it would be bad! He never knew what to do to make her feel better, and he always thought of himself as a scumbag whenever she did. She ignored his question, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not enough for you, that’s what you’re trying to say, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head vehemently, holding Myra’s hand in his, and squeezing it affectionately:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course, no! I love you, Myra, you know that! It’s just… I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie caressed his neck awkwardly, trying to keep himself from giving in so quickly, when his brain was pushing him to do so insistently:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it might be fun. Spending some time with a friend. You could see yours too. Maybe have a nice night with your colleagues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be with my husband! Is that so complicated to understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking a bit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, now, she was crying, for sure! Eddie didn’t want that to happen, and yet, he knew it would. He knew that she would disagree, that she would shame him for daring to ask for something like that, that she might even cry, and yet, he didn’t feel prepared for it. Instead, he felt incredibly vulnerable, squirming on the couch like a child about to be punished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry I’m such a boring person that you feel the need to see other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s heart tightened at her words. He should be used to this kind of treatment, his mother and Myra shaming him at every turn to get him to do whatever they wanted. But it worked. It always worked. He raised her chin tenderly, so that she would look him in the eyes:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, Myra, I love you. I don’t think less of you because… because I’d like to spend some time with a friend. It’s just a movie night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie froze at her words, and she instantly guessed that he wanted it to be a regular thing. She finally cried, getting up and turning her back at him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it! I’m not enough. I’m never enough!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know what to do, what to say. Part of him wanted to just cave in and forget about it all. But his thoughts kept drifting towards Richie, wondering what he did of his nights. Was he drinking himself to sleep? How alone did he feel, without his wife to hug him and wish him goodnight? Eddie wasn’t stupid. He noticed how fragile Richie had been. How easily he could be set off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie needed help. Someone to rely on. And Eddie wanted to be this person. For once, he wanted to be the one who supported the person he cared about, and not the other way. This thought caused him to snap, and he found himself getting overly angry, his words coming out of his mouth before he managed to think more about it:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about you, Myra! My life doesn’t have to revolve around you all the fucking time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew he fucked up. He knew it as soon as he saw Myra glaring at him, with a fury in her eyes he wasn’t used to. He felt small. So, so small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I don’t know that, Edward? It’s NEVER about me! I’m there for you all the time, supporting you at every second, and that’s how you’re treating me in return?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t breathe. Eddie couldn’t breathe. He was wheezing, his hands looking reflexively for an inhaler he didn’t need. Between two high-pitched inhalations, he apologized to her, before he found himself clawing at his chest, trying desperately to breathe. And yet, despite how awful Eddie had been towards her, she remained by his side. She sat him down on the couch, taking his hands in hers, and guiding him into slower breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was always there for his panic attacks (what he used to think as his “asthma” acting up), his failing health, his emotions all over the place. Always, no matter what. Eddie felt like an awful jerk, and he apologized once again, resting his head against Myra’s shoulder. She caressed his back, shushing him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, it’s okay. I forgive you, Eddie. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s alright. Everything’s fine. Let’s just forget about that, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie didn’t want to! He… He… When his breathing was less uneven, he stopped relying on Myra, looking at her with a gaze full of anxiety and determination as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’d really like to spend more time with Richie. With my friend. But it doesn’t mean that I… that I love you less or anything like that. It’s just… I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed it. He needed an out. Eddie was craving for a time where he wouldn’t be monitored at every second. For a moment where he could just have some fun, without thinking about the ticking bomb in his chest. And, as much as he loved his wife, she… she didn’t provide him that. At all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra sighed at his words. She caressed his cheek, asking with a soft voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie-bear, what would happen if you had an attack at your friend’s place? If your heart failed you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone was so sweet that it almost sounded condescending, but Eddie was so used to it that he didn’t even know that he was allowed to feel angry about it. Instead, his shame grew stronger, at the idea that he was worrying his wife even more. He gulped, shaking his leg:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… He would call 9-1-1. And you too, of course, if I couldn’t do so myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, Eddie wasn’t sure Richie would actually remember to warn Myra, if this kind of thing were to happen. But he’d definitely get help for Eddie, he had no doubt about it. Feeling that the discussion was opening up a little, Eddie insisted, knowing what Myra probably wanted to hear:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have my medication with me. I’ll follow my diet plan to a T, and I’ll only drink water or fruit juice. My phone will be at hand at any time, if you need to call me or if you want to be reassured. I… I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Please. Please, Myra. He really, really wanted this to happen. He never had that kind of opportunity in this life and, if he let it go, Eddie wasn’t sure he’d ever get this chance again. Maybe Richie would actually tire of him, if he bailed on him next Friday…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra sighed, a very, very long sigh. And, finally, a miracle happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, Eddie-bear. We’ll see how it goes next Friday. You’d better be on your best behaviour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s relief burst out of him, and he hugged her tightly, thanking her endlessly. He couldn’t believe it… It was actually going to happen! A night with a friend… Richie wouldn’t be his “babysitter”, this time. No, they’d be on equal foot, enjoying the movies Eddie never watched before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing Myra on the forehead, Eddie thanked her again, telling her with a wink:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it calls for a chocolate cake. Don’t you, Myra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wife always had a sweet tooth. Eddie as well, but he usually only allowed himself a few bites here and there, to not put his heart at risk. His doctor already told him that he could be nicer to himself, that he didn’t need to restrict himself so much, but Eddie knew better. His heart was precious, and he wasn’t going to waste it so stupidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, either after a bad fight or to celebrate a happy event, they would go to the bakery, buying the sweets Myra loved so much, and they would enjoy it together, although Eddie had to stop himself quickly, taking pleasure in seeing his wife appreciating what he couldn’t have. He had to learn to do so, or he would be endlessly craving for what was definitely out of reach…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her lips stretching into a smile, Myra nodded at his offer, glancing quickly at her knitting, before offering to go with him. He shook his head, squeezing her hand in his:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Myra, finish what you were doing. This scarf is going to be wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she’ll probably want him to wear it at all times, especially given that they were getting closer and closer to Fall. Definitely not cold enough for a piece of fabric so thick, but Eddie wouldn’t protest. She cared for him, and she knew what she was doing…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, Eddie needed a bit of alone time, after this exhausting negotiation. He felt tired, and he knew he could lose control over his emotions at any given moment, especially if Myra insisted on being overbearing. He needed to breathe… He really needed to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Myra. Let me take care of you this time, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She relented, but stopped Eddie from leaving when he attempted to do so, putting her hand over his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you forgetting something, Eddie-bear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew what she wanted of him. And he didn’t really want to do it, but he knew better than to try to avoid it. His thoughts were already muddled with childish fears he never managed to get rid of, thinking about all the sicknesses he could get from a kiss, how dirty it was, how easily they could both catch an illness from that. Eddie never found any pleasure in kissing, no matter how many times he did so with Myra. But that’s what he was supposed to do, right? As a husband loving his wife…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let out a long sigh as soon as he closed the door, a weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He wondered for a second if he would even be able to go to the bakery, wobbling on his legs, his exhaustion taking over him after all of that. Before he had been able to collect himself completely, a voice called out to him, startling him in the process:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising his gaze, Eddie recognized the owner of this gentle voice: Mike Hanlon, his neighbor. The man smiled at him, a kind smile that would warm Eddie’s heart every time he saw it. He seemed so nice, but Eddie never managed to do more than exchange some banalities with him in the hallway. He honestly wondered why…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright? We heard some screaming, we were getting worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grimaced. The walls were definitely too thin here… He shook his head, putting on a clumsy smile in an attempt to reassure him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’m sorry we bothered you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it had been anyone else than Mike, Eddie would have probably told them off, asking them to mind their own business. But Eddie couldn’t see himself acting meanly towards the guy, when he had been nothing but kind and polite to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not at all, Eddie! We all need to let off some steam sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled awkwardly, before a weird silence started to take them over. God, he had never been good with that kind of stuff… Mike wasn’t the chattiest man in the world, and Eddie… well, Eddie was good when it came to bouncing off someone, just like with Richie, but he couldn’t say the same when he had to start a conversation. Eddie didn’t know what to say. He felt that he had nothing interesting to share, and that he would bore his poor neighbor out of his mind if he dared to try…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike cleared his throat, offering him another smile, before pointing at his door:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I should get back to my husband. It was a pleasure seeing you, Eddie. We should get to know each other a little more. Bill makes a mean ratatouille, I’m sure you and Myra would love it. You… You can eat that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike seemed genuinely concerned about Eddie at the moment, so, even if he knew that it would probably never happen, he immediately took it upon himself to reassure him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I can. As long as it isn’t too seasoned...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should be just fine. Well, we’ll plan that real soon, alright? Take care, Eddie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d never eat that ratatouille together. Eddie knew it well. Mike was just trying to be polite and, even if he didn’t, Myra wouldn’t want to disturb her routine more than she was already doing so, after allowing Eddie to see Richie. Not a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know why, but Eddie suddenly felt sad. Really, really sad. He shook his head, chasing the feeling away as much as he could, before he finally left the building to go to the bakery. He’d have to tell Myra that it was crowded, so that she wouldn’t be too upset. As if he could manage to lie to her…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had waited for Friday impatiently, counting the days until then. When it was finally time for him to go, Myra checked his stuff, making sure that he hadn’t forgotten his medication, and that everything was in order. She slipped a note in his bag, listing the foods and drinks he wasn’t supposed to indulge in, for his own sake. Eddie didn’t need it, he was careful enough about it all, but he didn’t protest, not wanting her to change her mind suddenly about the whole thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you home by midnight at most, alright? Text me when you arrive. Don’t drink anything you shouldn’t drink, and if the movie is too much for you, stop it immediately, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at her words this time:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myra, I’m forty. I’m not a child. I can watch a stupid movie without falling apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just being careful! I’ve heard about this guy in Minnesota, who had a heart attack after he watched some movie with his friends, you never know what might happen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of Eddie thought that it was only absurd hearsay, but another part of him was now getting worried at the idea that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>might </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen. He forced himself to calm down when the bell rang, Richie there to take him home. Myra drowned him with recommendations, and Eddie could see that Richie was struggling to keep a straight face, but he still listened to his worried wife, repeating them back to her diligently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grinned at him as soon as they were alone, in his (obnoxious) car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you have until midnight before this carriage turns into a pumpkin, Cindereddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” Eddie flipped him off, unable to stop himself from smiling: “It’s not a carriage, your car is a nightmare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wounding me, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop with this nickname. He was so relieved that it was finally happening, that he was getting this night with Richie, he didn’t want to risk ruining it in any way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The traffic was pretty dense today. Eddie rested his head against the window, groaning at the slow cars, sighing while Richie drummed on the wheel with his fingers, still smiling:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience is a virtue, Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would already have pulled us off this nightmare if I was the one driving. You’re too soft behind the wheel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughed at his words, while Eddie found himself longing for his car. His doctor gave him the thumbs up to drive, but Myra was too worried to let him do so, and Eddie had to let her hold onto his driver’s license, for her peace of mind. He missed driving… He really missed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie started to ask him if he was okay, when Eddie’s phone rang. He pulled it out, sighing when he saw who was calling:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Myra. No, we haven’t arrived yet. No, we didn’t stop somewhere, we’re stuck in traffic. Yes, I promise, we’re going straight to his flat. Yes, I will call you when we arrive. I promise. Bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hung up, but the phone rang again, startling them both. Starting to get pissed off, he answered too harshly, unable to control the volume of his voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence greeted him for a few seconds. Then, her voice, telling him with authority:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot to tell me that you love me. And now, you’re screaming at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie massaged his forehead with his free hand, stopping himself from letting out a sigh that Myra would have heard. He could already hear her sobbing and… and he shouldn’t have screamed, for fuck’s sake…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Myra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say, “I love you,” Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, probably influenced by Richie’s presence, Eddie found himself very tempted to tease her a bit, to answer with a cheeky “I love you, Eddie”, that would probably get a chuckle out of his friend. But Myra? Myra wouldn’t appreciate it at all. He knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Myra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too. Text me when you arrive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise. Love you. Bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hung up, sighing and curling up slightly on himself, feeling trapped in a way he couldn’t explain. He was expecting Richie to mock the shit out of him, but he didn’t, focusing back on the road. After a short while, Richie started to talk about the movies they could watch together, as if nothing happened, and Eddie felt incredibly grateful. Maybe he could finally begin to relax… To have fun, for once.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, Eddie finally dared to ask something to Myra, but it hadn't been easy. Given that he never had the Losers as his friends to help him mature and getting self-assured, Eddie's pretty much stuck into a earlier stage of development. He's definitely an adult, but he still has this instinct to obey to authority when it comes to maternal figures (because Myra is definitely this even if Eddie doesn't want to acknowledge it). And he gets guilt-tripped constantly and easily, which doesn't help at all.</p><p>I think Richie would know better than to tease him on the phone call he received. Sometimes, he actually knows when to stop x). Next chapter will be about their movie night, I hope you'll enjoy it!</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay. Thank you all for your support, it means the world to me! I have a blast writing this new story, I hope you're enjoying it just as much c:.</p><p>With that said, here are the Trigger Warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for ableism<br/>TW for suicidal ideation<br/>TW for internalized homophobia<br/>TW for homophobic slur</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After spending the last year or so wallowing in his own despair, falling into a hole that he kept digging in deeper and deeper, Richie couldn’t believe how quickly his life turned around. How healthy he forced himself to become, in the span of two weeks. After his first jogging with Eddie and the promise he made to him, Richie made a conscious effort to, at least, eat a complete breakfast every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also showered himself daily, aware that the man would definitely notice if he neglected his hygiene, as he did until then. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was doing him some good. The hot water on his skin was a pure relief, before and after his effort, and even if he didn’t do much the rest of the day, Richie still had a fixed routine he could look forward to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richie wasn’t doing so for himself. He refused to think that it was helping him, that he didn’t feel as heavy as he did those last months, that he started to smile (naturally) a little bit more. If he did, Richie would have to recognize that he began to move on, and he couldn’t. Steve was still there, in his heart, in his soul, in his life. Nothing would ever change that. And Eddie… Well, Eddie needed his help, that was all. If he was happy, Steve would be too, his heart keeping the man alive as long as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie kept obsessing over Steve, listening to his voicemail, again and again, every night, refusing to sleep in their bedroom. He left it untouched, as if his husband would come back someday and lie into the bed, right next to him. If he didn’t think of him as dead, Richie would keep Steve close forever. So, he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still… Richie actually took the time to get out and buy himself a proper jogging outfit and running shoes that Eddie would approve of. He started to research various information on heart transplants, before he had to stop himself, unable to accept the fact that Eddie’s heart, Steve’s heart, could fail him someday. If he did, his husband… he… he wouldn’t be there at all anymore… and Richie couldn’t fathom this appalling idea. The less he knew, the better it would be, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He even invited Eddie to a movie night, the man finally letting him know this morning that he was okay with it and would be free next Friday. Richie couldn’t wait for that to happen… But it also meant that he definitely needed to tidy up his place. Eddie couldn’t be expected to enter such a messy flat. Richie had to make him believe that he was fine, that he was not about to break down at every second over the absence of his partner. Eddie needed someone to rely on, not the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was going to enter his daily life, his apartment. And, by doing so, he’d see Steve. His presence was everywhere, pictures of their happiness plastered here and there, making it really obvious to anyone entering this place that Richie was not straight. If he was at ease with this idea when his husband was still around, giving him the courage to overcome his past terror, the anxiety now came back, as well as the intrusive thoughts. He couldn’t help, but wonder if Eddie would find him </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusting. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie couldn’t bear it if the man was actually homophobic… Not when Steve’s heart was keeping him alive. Not when his husband was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there, </span>
  </em>
  <span>beating in Eddie’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Richie was tempted to hide the pictures and pretend that he was a minimalist type of guy, he knew he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t ashamed of Steve. Richie loved him more than any word could hope to define it. He just… He hadn’t been able to bring himself to correct Myra and Eddie when they started to talk about his wife, the internalized homophobia creeping back. Richie thought it was definitely behind him, but it seemed that he could only be strong when he was able to rely on Steve… And now, he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stretched his tired muscles, trying to motivate himself to start tidying up his place as soon as he’d be home. He knew that if he took his shower and curled up on the couch, he wouldn’t be able to move much afterward. So he had to do it now before taking a break, despite how much he was aching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yawning, Richie opened his door, only realizing when he did so that it was already unlocked. When he heard his water tap being turned on and off compulsively, he immediately guessed who decided to visit him. He walked towards the source of this sound, finding out his “guest”. Stanley Uris, his best friend, was stuck in an endlessly repeating cycle, muttering words that Richie couldn’t quite hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie let out a sigh. He already told Stan multiple times that he shouldn’t come. He knew how much the mess in his flat and his own state of mind were triggering for his friend’s OCD, and the last thing he wanted was to throw Stan into one of his compulsions. Which he obviously did, his friend so highly focused on the tap that Richie wasn’t sure he even heard him coming back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie got a little closer, putting his hand on Stanley’s shoulder. His friend jumped, startled, glancing at Richie with concerned eyes:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, for fuck’s sake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to stop himself from turning on and off the tape, but had to do it three more times before he finally managed to put an end to it. Stanley looked at Richie for a second, quiet and shaking slightly, before he hugged him, whispering to his ear:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were gone, man. I… You never leave this place. You...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stanley inhaled deeply and frowned his nose, a disgusted expression on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckled at his frankness, appreciating how direct Stanley could be. He never minced his words, especially with him. As harsh it could sometimes be, it was also refreshing, this brutal honesty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thank you, Stan the Man. I went for a run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan’s gaze transcribed his disbelief perfectly. Richie couldn’t blame him. Even at the peak of his well-being, he had never been much of a sportsman, only exercising when his roles necessitated him to do so. And now, he was actually wearing a jogging outfit, running shoes and just came back from an intense session that left him sweaty and aching. Of course, Stan couldn’t believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m jogging now. Trying to take care of my health, all of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do with Richie Tozier? And, more seriously, why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone? I called ten times at least!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie massaged his neck, having the decency to look embarrassed:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… Silent mode?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he shouldn’t. Richie was aware that he should answer his phone, reassure his friends when they called him, letting them know that he hadn’t thrown himself in front of a train</span>
  <em>
    <span> yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he couldn’t. Whenever the phone was getting near his ear, Richie couldn’t help but hear Steve’s voice, as if he was still listening to the last message he ever left him. He didn’t have the strength for that… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that to me, Richie. I was worried, I was so fucking worried!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t mean to say those words, not like that. But he didn’t like the way his friends kept hovering over him, trying to help him, to get him to “move on”. Richie was perfectly fine on his own, thank you very much. He was dealing with it the way he wanted to, and if that didn’t please them… Well, he didn’t care. At all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, at least, he tried to. His brain kept replaying the harsh words that he had for Beverly, the last time he saw her, and he tried to convince himself to text her or go visiting her, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even know what he would say, not after how awful he had been… Beverly would never forgive him, and Richie couldn’t blame her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could see that the mess was still stressing Stan, and he put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly, trying to get him to focus his attention on him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go home, Stan. I’m okay. I’m just gonna tidy up the place a bit, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stanley raised an eyebrow, looking at Richie as if he just grew a second head. It was starting to get a little tiring… His tone was visibly expressing his frustration, while Richie was rolling his eyes and asking his friend:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Now, you’re worrying because I’m getting better? What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stanley crossed his arms, tapping methodically on his skin with his fingers. He looked clearly uneasy, his gaze piercing Richie’s, as if he was trying to read his mind:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t buy it. You’re not just magically getting a grip on yourself, that’s not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Stan, I’m deeply touched.” Richie grimaced, knowing how right his friend was, an idea that pissed him off to no end. “But no, nothing to hide. I just want you all to stop doting on me as if I was made of glass or something. I’m not, and I’m doing just fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t. Richie knew it, but he refused to admit it. If Stanley were to know what he did, if he learned about Eddie, Richie was sure that he would find him and tell him the truth. It would ruin everything he had worked for, so far… Eddie would push him away, and Richie wouldn’t be able to help him find happiness in his miserable life. He wouldn’t be able to be so close to Steve ever again… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not… Richie, we’re your friends. Of course, we’re worried. You’d do the same for me if Patty died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t want to hear that. Even if Stanley didn’t say it directly, he still implied the unfathomable about Steve, and Richie couldn’t handle it. So, he did what he did best during those last few months: he bit back, to keep his illusion safe, to push his friend and his help away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no, I wouldn’t be at your home literally trying to flood it because I can’t handle a few bottles lying around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, Richie regretted his words as soon as they exited his motormouth, how cruel they were. It wasn’t Stanley’s fault. His friend… His friend was the best friend he could ever have, trying to be there for him as much as possible, even if it hurt him in the process. That’s how it always had been between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Low blow, Richie. Real low blow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stanley’s voice barely wavered, but Richie could see all the little hints in his behavior, indicating that he wasn’t taking it as well as he tried to pretend he was. His fingernails were digging in his arms, leaving red marks on his sensitive and pale skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty was definitely going to notice it, and Richie was pretty sure that she would reach out to him soon, and not in a nice way. This woman could be scary, sometimes… But she loved Stan dearly and was only trying to be there for him, like his friend wanted to support Richie. And what was Richie doing to thank him? Acting like an ableist ass. Good job, Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t mean it, I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never mean it, Richie. You just want to keep us away, but it’s not gonna work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stanley glanced around him, his fidgeting getting considerably worse. If he stayed here any longer, his compulsions would definitely take over him, and Richie wouldn’t be able to help him. It’s been a while since it happened, and the result… Well, it hadn’t been pretty, to say the least. Richie couldn’t think about it without wincing visibly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m leaving, but I’ll come back. You better go find Bev and apologize properly to her. No “I didn’t mean it” or whatever bullshit you think you should come up with. You fucked up, just acknowledge it for once. Stop pushing us back. We’re still there, whether you like it or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan tried to leave, but he found himself closing and opening the door five times before he was finally able to do so, looking visibly exhausted and even ashamed. Richie sighed, scratching his sweaty hair:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really the worst, sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than focusing on what happened, Richie threw himself into his housework, finally tidying up the place after all this time. Every inch getting cleaner was a clear victory. Richie didn’t remember the last time he actually managed to do that. Beverly, Ben, and Stanley, despite how triggering it was for him, took turns over the previous months to try to clear the mess he kept making, hoping that it would help him. It didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie was coming, and Richie needed the place squeaky clean. He was exhausted when he finally managed to do so, but it wasn’t over. He still had a shower to take, and he needed to start planning this movie night with him properly. His hair dripping wet, Richie put on a few orders for drinks and food, before he literally spent hours browsing Netflix, trying to determine what would be best for Eddie to watch first. The trilogy Indiana Jones (he refused to acknowledge the fourth movie) could be a good idea, but it was better to watch them back to back, and Eddie did tell him that he had to be back home at midnight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced at the thought that the man was actually having a </span>
  <em>
    <span>curfew, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as if he had to worry about going to school the next day. What kind of life was he leading if it seemed to be a perfectly normal thing to him? If Richie dared to pull that on Steve, his husband would definitely have told him to fuck off to Oblivion…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was only a first step. Richie needed to see it that way. Eddie never did such a thing before, and, he guessed it, it must have been a real challenge for him to ask Myra to get to do that, to spend the evening without her for once. Richie hoped that there would be other steps to come. Maybe he could convince him to stay home longer next time, even for the whole night, pretending that they needed to watch it all back to back… If he had to watch the extended editions of “Lord of the Rings” AND “The Hobbit” in one sitting to do so, then Richie definitely would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally settled for “Ferris Bueller’s day off”, one of his favorite childhood movies. His choice wasn’t totally innocent, Richie hoped Eddie would actually learn something from this movie, how exhilarating freedom could be, and that he might get inspired by Cameron’s decision at the end to confront his overbearing father and not take his shit anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He actually hesitated to pick “The Hangover”, if only for Stu Price’s journey during the movie and how he finally managed to break up with his abusive girlfriend, but Eddie was far from stupid, and he’d definitely get why Richie chose to show him this movie. Not to mention that he wasn’t sure that he would even appreciate the humor in the first place (it wasn’t Richie’s favorite movie either, to be honest)…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighed, closing his laptop and lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling as if it was the most exciting thing in the world. He felt exhausted, but in a good way. At least, he was finally making something of his endless days, planning to help Eddie to overcome his troubles and find happiness in his life, instead of drowning himself in his loneliness. He had to: Steve deserved better than the existence Eddie was currently leading. He deserved the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s fingers hovered over his phone’s keyboard. Beverly’s number was there, right there, ready to be called. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, he typed a text, sending it before he had the time to overthink it:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. I’ve been the king of assholes. Can we see each other again? I understand if you don’t want to. I love you, Bev.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly didn’t answer. But, at least, Richie tried to open the door. It was up to her to decide if she wanted to give him a second chance or not. He wasn’t sure he deserved it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie texted his wife as soon as they arrived at his flat, writing frantically to her. Richie couldn’t blame him. After the shit she pulled in the car, he clearly understood why he felt the need to let her know that he arrived at Richie’s apartment and that he was okay. He still couldn’t get why the man was letting her walk all over him, though, especially given that he proved himself perfectly able to be spunky when he was talking to Richie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gosh, Richie had the feeling that he actually invited Eddie to a sleepover and that he was calling his mom or something. Were they really in their forties? His motormouth was tempted to tease Eddie, but he knew very well that the man wouldn’t appreciate it, and he didn’t want him to end this movie night prematurely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie glanced around him, his eyes landing on a picture showing him with Steve, kissing him on the cheek. How long before Eddie would notice it all? How long before he'd realize that Richie was actually very gay and very much in love with his husband? Fidgeting with his ring nervously, Richie waited on his “friend” (he still hesitated to use the word, given the secret he was keeping from him) to react. Would he take it well? Or would he start calling him a fag, as his childhood bullies and some fucked up people did, as soon as he publicly came out? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxiety started to creep up on him, Richie’s mind convincing him that the worst was about to happen, when Eddie put his hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie jumped, startled. He was about to ramble something that was close to reassuring to Eddie, when he noticed the picture that Richie was fixated on. A soft “Oh” slid from his parted lips, his gaze focusing on the photo, before going back to Richie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you… Uh… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything. It’s just… uh...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie visibly looked awkward and uneasy. Richie held his breath, waiting for what he was about to say as if the man was about to decapitate him on the spot:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t… look gay? I think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was clearly not expecting that. Not knowing how to react, he started to laugh uncontrollably, while Eddie visibly seemed offended and embarrassed at the same time, adding clumsily:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… You’re nothing like my gay neighbors and, uh… I watched “Queer eye” when it aired, you know, and you… you definitely don’t look the part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting me to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fabulous </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>glittery? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Because I can be, when I want to. I can be super fab, actually. The most fabulous gay man you ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie suddenly realized what he just said, and he visibly cringed, hiding his face behind his hands for a short moment:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck, what am I even saying? Sorry, really. I just… I’m not used to talk about those things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, Richie wasn’t sure he was used to talking about sexuality at all. If anything, Eddie seemed to have quite a stick up his ass (and not the good kind of stick), most of Richie’s raunchy jokes either going over his head or causing him to blush and act all offended, like some kind of monk. The more he thought about it, the more Richie wondered if Eddie really did live in a Mormon town most of his life…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, uh, it’s fine with me. I mean… I don’t think it’s wrong. No, that’s not what I want to say. I just… uh… It doesn’t change a thing. I… uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was literally squirming, and Richie was half-tempted to interrupt him to stop his misery, but the guy was actually kinda adorable, trying so hard to show his support to him and failing to do so without being clumsy:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still want to run with you. And… And to have this movie night with you. And others to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grinned at his words, ruffling his hair, Eddie protesting at the gesture and attempting to rearrange the mess he just made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re okay with running with a gay guy, I’m very happy to keep jogging with a Straightie. I’ll bring the rainbow and glitter next time. Yas, queen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes, showing the middle finger to Richie, who merely chuckled and invited him to sit on the couch. He pulled out the drinks and the food he ordered, not noticing Eddie’s whitening face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took a little bit of everything, since I don’t know what you like. So, there’s beer, rosé, red wine… You can also enjoy some peanuts, crisps, and...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie interrupted himself as soon as he saw Eddie’s expression, and he finally realized what he just did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… Oh, shit, it’s not just your wife being super, mega protective, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head, twisting his fingers nervously, as if he was currently guilty of something:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t. I can’t drink alcohol, and I can’t definitely eat all of that. I… The doctor would say that I could take some bites, but… but Myra...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie immediately reacted and, before Eddie finished his sentence, the alcohol was put in a cupboard, hidden from sight, and the coffee table was definitely less filled with junk food. Richie grimaced apologetically, bringing some fruit juice and serving it to Eddie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry, dude. I should have looked into it more. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I’m such a fucking idiot sometimes, forgive me. It must be a real Tantalean punishment for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked genuinely confused by his words, so Richie explained it to him patiently, sipping on his juice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tantalean. You know, like the guy in Greek mythology? Doesn’t ring a bell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been into this stuff. And I was never really good at school, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Richie’s turn to look bewildered. He expected Eddie to be one of those stuck-up students, always at the top of his classes, and it seemed he was mistaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… So, long story short, there’s this guy, Tantalus. He tried to feed his son to the Gods, so they punished him, and, for all eternity, he’s hungry and thirsty, surrounded by seemingly delicious things he can’t touch. Water evades him, and his fingers can’t close on any piece of food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds horrible. Then again, the guy did cook his son. Greeks are weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughed at Eddie’s conclusion:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess they are. But the important thing is that I put you through the same thing, and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shrugged, putting his glass back on the table:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, really. I only drank alcohol once, and I’ve never been tempted to do it again after that. I actually thought I was going to die this night. I don’t remember what happened, besides waking up in the hospital and spending the rest of the year there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced sympathetically at his story. He did end up in the hospital a few times because of what he drank, but mostly because he overdid it when he should have known when to stop. Sometimes, it was really tempting to drink himself to death, knowing that it was very likely that no one else would be there in time to help him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head to chase this dark thought from his mind, Richie forced himself to smile, offering sheepishly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, uh, we can order something, if you want? I think there’s a vegan restaurant nearby that can deliver stuff. I never really tried it, so...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiled back, glancing at his phone and ordering a few things for himself and Richie. Richie insisted on paying, but he refused, rolling his eyes at how stubborn he was:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You paid for all of this stuff, let me handle that, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re not going to enjoy any of that.” Richie glanced at the crisps and the peanuts, adding afterward: “Maybe you could try it all? Just a little bit. Your doc says it’s okay, so… You know...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could see that he was visibly tempted. That he really wanted to take this step and eat what he might never have tasted before (or not in a long time, anyway). He still shook his head, biting on his bottom lip:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Myra would disapprove of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your wife’s not here, y’know. If she asks, I’ll tell her that you only ate rabbit food, 
I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can just say “healthy”, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the food again, mumbling with an embarrassed voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not touching the peanuts. I’m pretty sure I’m allergic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he was very tempted to, Richie didn’t say a thing, waiting on Eddie to take a handful of crisps. He felt his throat closing-up slightly at how much the man was hesitating, as if he was about to do something incredibly illegal. It was just a packet of crisps… How much was his wife restricting him daily for Eddie to actually look scared at the idea of tasting them? He even looked behind his shoulder at some point, for fuck’s sake!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he finally took a crisp, a single crisp, and closed his teeth on it. The noise he let out was borderline indecent, and Eddie literally shivered, moaning with joy:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, it’s so fucking good! Why is it so good when it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Oh, fuck, I love it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost seemed ready to cry and, looking at him, Richie wasn’t that far as well. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile on his face and handing him the packet:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely, you can take more than one, right? Actually, wait a minute...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie got up, grabbing two bowls and giving them to Eddie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fill it as much as you think you can handle it. I’ll pour myself some too, and I’ll put the packet aside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he wished for was for Eddie to overindulge and to risk hurting his heart, Steve’s heart in the process. But Eddie was reasonable, and, to be honest, Richie was almost sure that he could actually fill his bowl a little more. But he kept that thought to himself, putting the same amount of crisps in his own bowl, before setting the packet aside. No more temptations in plain view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slowly enjoyed their bowls' content, waiting on Eddie’s order, making small talk in the process. Richie listened to Eddie rambling about his work, the man obviously passionate about what he was doing. It seemed like the most boring job Richie could ever think of, but Eddie’s investment and energy were still convincing him to pay attention to his every word, smiling at his enthusiasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He probably didn’t have many opportunities to talk about his work… Richie doubted Myra was really into it. If anything, he was sure that she was trying to convince him regularly to give up on the job and rely only on disability benefits. If Eddie ever let it go, Richie was sure that it would kill him, and not just figuratively speaking. Until Richie came into his life, it was probably the last thing he had for him that didn’t involve Myra at all. He needed it. He really needed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you? You have a job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced. If he started to talk about his company, Eddie would progressively put two and two together, and he’d get closer to the truth. He couldn’t allow that to happen…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, don’t really work. I don’t need to, so, you know… I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could see that Eddie wasn’t convinced by his answer, but he didn’t insist, probably guessing that it was a sensitive topic. He changed the subject, much to Richie’s relief:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this movie? Is it Indiana Jones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, those movies will be for later. It’s one of my favorite childhood movies, you’re gonna love it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And indeed, Eddie was quickly invested in “Ferris Buller’s day off”. But not for the reasons Richie thought. He begged him to pause the movie, pointing at the screen:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me… Don’t tell me that he’s actually driving an authentic 250 GT California Spyder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… I guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie literally squealed, and Richie jumped on his seat, clearly not expecting this reaction from him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fuck, are you having an orgasm or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up! This car is a literal small wonder, I can only dream to ever get close to the real thing. There are barely 100 models left in the world, can you imagine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie cleared his throat, already knowing what was about to happen to the car. Well, Eddie was definitely NOT going to like the end of the movie… How did he forget that he was such a car nerd? And indeed, when the “small wonder”, as he called it, ended up in the ravine, Eddie put his hand over his chest, his mouth agape. He remained silent for a second, before he finally managed to say:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t fucking believe it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie quickly looked up the movie on the Internet, attempting to soften the blow:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, you know, they only destroyed a replica, it’s not..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I know that they destroyed a replica, you think they’d fucking chuck that beauty into a damn ravine?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head disapprovingly, crossing his arms, looking personally offended when the main characters decided that it wasn’t such a big deal, Cameron deciding to stand up against his father over the fate of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is this movie? You’re telling me that it’s supposed to be a good ending? This car is fucking destroyed! I’d kill those fuckers myself, if I was with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Eddie, you’re starting to scare me a little, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie groaned loudly, not even paying attention to the rest of the movie. So much for a possible life lesson… He finally muttered, looking at Richie as if he just witnessed the end of the world:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… But it’s a 250 GT California Spyder…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighed, patting his back to comfort him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time, I’ll pick a better movie, promise. One where they don’t destroy a 250 whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A 250 GT California Spyder!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t help but laugh, and, despite how upset he seemed, Eddie found himself laughing as well, resting his head against his shoulder. So close… They were so close… Richie could almost feel his heart beating… When the idea crossed his mind, Richie got up quickly, his shoulder hitting Eddie’s temple in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry, I… uh… Bathroom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Eddie had the time to say a thing, Richie already ran away, locking himself in the bathroom, shivers running through his body. Fuck, fuck, fuck… He needed to calm down. He couldn’t let him see what he was going through. If Eddie… If he knew… It would be all over. He wouldn’t be able to hang out with him anymore, he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s train of thoughts stopped in its tracks, a feeling of deep, deep shame washing over him. He wasn’t “hanging out” with Eddie. It wasn’t for his own benefit. He… He was trying to give a better life to the guy, to Steve. He wasn’t… He didn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get a fucking grip, Tozier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie splashed water all over his face, repeating quietly those words: he’s not your friend. He was merely helping the guy. That was it. Nothing else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally calmed down, Richie returned to Eddie, pretending that he had just experienced an episode of explosive diarrhea. Fortunately, Eddie’s delicate nature was too disgusted by the idea to focus on anything else and begged him to never bring it up again, heaving at the thought. Richie was more than happy to obey, doing his best for the rest of the evening to keep his intrusive thoughts at bay, while reminding himself why he was doing all of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wasn’t supposed to gain any joy from that. He wasn’t benefiting from frequenting Eddie. He wasn’t befriending him. Eddie was kept alive by Steve’s heart, and that’s what truly mattered. Richie couldn’t find the way Eddie was nerding out over his cars endearing, and he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy their banter. Not truly. If he started to forget why he was doing that, Steve… He’d let him down. And Richie loved him too much for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he missed him… He missed him so fucking much.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Richie's not allowing himself to enjoy Eddie's presence and to start to move on from Steve, and it's destroying him slowly. He just can't let go of his grief, because he's so sure that it would mean that he's "betraying" his husband. It's complicated... He does have a fun time with Eddie, and he does think of him as a friend, but if he keeps doing so, he's going to start truly separating Eddie from Steve, and right now, he can't.</p><p>Eddie has no idea what he's going through and he doesn't know at all why Richie has truly starting to take an interest into him, and it's definitely not good. He's just so happy to finally get to spend time with a friend, away from his daily life and his unhappy marriage... Well, it's not boding well for the future, to say the least.</p><p>Maybe if Richie finally starts to allow himself to open up and accept his friends' support as well... I think he has been really cruel to Stan, but I also think that Stan is used to his bullshit and didn't take it too much to heart. I really like their friendship and I can't wait to expand on it a little more.</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Merry Christmas! I hope you're doing okay. I'm awfully sleepy, but I really wanted to post this chapter before the 25th, and here it is! </p><p>I hope you'll enjoy it. Here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for casual homophobia<br/>TW for mention of emotional manipulation</p><p>I think that's all! Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on his screen when his mind was wandering somewhere else, despite his best efforts. It wasn’t him. Eddie always had his head in the game, whenever he was working. He couldn’t settle for an acceptable result, when he knew that he could do so much better, and it made him a precious asset for his company. Despite the fact that he had to work remotely and that his health made him miss more days than many of his coworkers, Eddie was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>person to go to, whenever they had to handle something delicate. And he was mighty proud of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, though, Eddie couldn’t find in him the will to concentrate properly on his work. He read the same sentence three times in a row, and he barely answered his coworker’s constant yapping in his earpiece, when he would have told him otherwise to shut up and work a while ago. He kept thinking back to the movie night he spent with Richie, unable to stop himself from smiling whenever he did so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie never had the opportunity to do this kind of stuff, not once in his life. His mother always kept him on a tight leash, which prevented him from forming any meaningful relationship until he was getting near his adult years. Then, Myra took over, convincing him that he shouldn’t look for more than what he was getting from her. He accepted the idea for a while, more resigned than anything else, but Richie changed all of that. And it started with their movie night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, he hadn’t been perfect, but Eddie didn’t ask him to be. He was used to people’s ignorance regarding his condition. To be honest, he was just relieved that Richie didn’t insist when he told him that he couldn’t drink alcohol. Other people might have, arguing that a single drink wouldn’t kill him. But they didn’t know that. They couldn’t possibly be aware of what Eddie was going through, how many things he had to be careful about, and how he couldn’t let himself be lenient about those things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was too uptight about the whole thing, though. After the evening, Eddie had been honestly worried that the junk food he ate would be too much for him, for his heart. But he was doing fine, as far as he knew, so maybe he could give himself some leeway… Not too much, but from time to time? He could keep them to his nights with Richie, if it were to happen again. Eddie honestly hoped it would. He hadn’t had so much fun in… in forever, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie cringed hard, though, when he suddenly remembered the way he handled Richie’s homosexuality. Of all the things he could have said and done… Why did he have to tell his friend that he “didn’t look gay”? God, he must have thought that he was an idiot. And Eddie was, truly. How hard was it to just acknowledge it and move on? Why did he have to be so awkward, so… so awful? Eddie had been borderline homophobic, and he was honestly relieved and thankful that Richie didn’t take it in the wrong way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why it surprised him so much. Myra had been the first to assume that Richie had a wife, and Eddie followed suit, without taking the time to think about it more. He kept wondering what kind of woman could have married his friend, but the fact that he used to have a husband didn’t even cross his mind. And Eddie definitely felt uneasy about that, in a way he couldn’t quite explain…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was lucky that Richie had been understanding. Eddie wouldn’t have to hold it against him if he took offense from his words, but he didn’t. Instead, he joked about it with him, helping him to be more relaxed about the whole thing, making it way less awkward than it could have been. Eddie didn’t think he had it in him, but Richie was actually pretty good at getting him to calm down, just as much as he was able to rile him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a result, the next time they saw each other, for their daily jog, they behaved exactly as they always did, indulging in their usual banter whenever they weren’t too out of breath to do so, talking about whatever came to their mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His conversations with Richie were so freeing… Eddie didn’t have to second guess everything, as he had to with Myra. His friend listened to his rambling about his work, his passionate speeches about whatever car was catching his interest at the moment, or the many, many things that were crossing his mind at every minute. And he didn’t hold it against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra only had so much patience for his chattering, and Eddie understood her. Sometimes, he could really talk for hours and not realize that the person he was conversing with hadn’t been able to say a single word, until it was too late. Myra had better things to talk about than cars or work. His health, for a start. She never shut up about his health, and, as much as he was grateful to have her, Eddie needed an out sometimes. To forget about his predicament for a little while. And Richie gave him that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he hoped that they would do that again soon! Now that he had a taste of what freedom was like, Eddie couldn’t wait to swallow it whole. But he had to talk about it with Myra first, and he wasn’t sure she would like it. She already didn’t appreciate the fact that he insisted on spending the evening without her… Eddie grimaced, thinking about how she greeted him back when Richie drove him home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waited for him in the living room, sitting on their couch, her cellphone in her hand. When Eddie stepped in, she immediately closed the door behind him, barely giving more than a quick look to Richie. Then she inspected every inch of his body, asking him questions after questions. Yes, he was fine. No, he didn’t drink alcohol. No, the movie they watched hadn’t been too intense for him. No, he didn’t feel any chest pain during the evening. Yes, he was glad to be home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had to lie at some point, pretending that they only ate healthy food. Myra would have panicked if he admitted that he didn’t, that he indulged in some crisps, something he never allowed himself to do otherwise. She would have insisted on driving him to the hospital, and he probably would have never been able to see Richie again. So, as much as he didn’t like it, Eddie had to hide the truth from his wife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going to bed after that had been weird. Eddie’s mind was filled with memories of his time with Richie, but it suddenly seemed so far away, as if it happened years ago. It only took a few minutes for Eddie to forget what it was like, to live without fear, without the constraints of his daily existence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra’s worry seeped into his head and chased any kind of good feeling he still had before coming home. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten all of that… Perhaps he should have remained in their flat, instead of going out with Richie. Did he make a mistake? Was he going to lose his heart over a stupid night out? Was he going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s anxiety kept him awake for most of the night, until his exhaustion took over him, finally giving him some respite. But he was fine. Eddie was okay. His heart was beating alright, and he had no symptoms that could indicate that his health was getting worse. On the contrary, he never felt as good as he did at the moment. He woke up giddy and still was, a few days later. So much that he couldn’t focus on his fucking work!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richie… God, Richie! Eddie smiled, trying to hold back a chuckle when he remembered one of his jokes, and failing to do so. He hid it behind a cough, aware that his coworker might have heard him in his own earpiece. The guy kept yapping, yapping, yapping… What was he even saying? Eddie couldn’t care less. He attempted to focus back on his job, when his colleague called him repeatedly. The third time, Eddie finally snapped, hitting his desk:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy didn’t seem startled by Eddie’s outburst. He was used to it, as pretty much everyone else in his company. Eddie was a moody coworker, but he was working just fine, and they could count on him, so they let it slide… Most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying to get your opinion on Judith’s file for the last ten minutes, Eddie. What the fuck are you thinking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How ridiculous would it be if he admitted that he kept thinking about his friend and what was basically his first “pajama party”? Eddie bit his bottom lip, mortified and ashamed. The guy (he didn’t even remember his name… Mark? Michael?) would think that he was the worst loser he ever met. Most people did, anyway. Until they learned that he was sick, and then, he suddenly became pitiful or weirdly “inspirational”, in a way he didn’t feel proud of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His silence seemed to worry his coworker, since he told him with a softer voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should take a break, Eddie. You haven’t stopped working all morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I’ll be fine. I’m focusing on my work, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t. But he should, right? His coworker laughed in his earpiece, and Eddie grimaced at the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re probably the only weirdo I know who refuses to stop working when he’s offered to do so. Eddie, it’s fine, alright? Give yourself a few minutes, go drink something, and you’ll get back into it after that, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t help but think that it felt patronizing. Maybe his colleague thought that he was getting tired and that he couldn’t handle it. But he could! He was just… he was just reacting like some kind of overexcited teenager, and it was honestly embarrassing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Eddie, go take a break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning openly at his colleague’s insistence:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, I’m fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t like to say otherwise. To admit that he couldn’t work, that he needed to rest, to take a few days off here and there… He often relied on his wife to do so, too ashamed to dare to do it himself. Myra was usually the one calling for him, whenever he was too weak to work remotely. But right now, his health was fine, he was just… distracted. And he shouldn’t be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, no one’s essential.” The guy sighed loudly. “You take that break, or I’ll report you to HR.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What the fuck, dude? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t sure he heard it right. His coworker really thought that he could report him because… because he was doing his job? Eddie dreaded what he was about to say, but he couldn’t stop it from happening, stuck listening to his colleague’s worried tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you die on the job, it’s their responsibility on the line, Eddie. I don’t give a fuck about our company’s reputation, but, believe it or not, I actually care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Take a break. Live a little. You’re at home, enjoy a break, no one will notice that you’re gone for a short moment. But if you don’t, I’ll tell HR that you’re having symptoms and that you refuse to stop working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, my babysitter? Fuck off, Mark!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His coworker’s silence was quite telling. Eddie definitely got it wrong. He gave it another try, rubbing his temples:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Adrian. We’ve been working together for a while now, I thought you’d care enough to remember it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grimaced, knowing that his coworker genuinely felt hurt by his ignorance. He attempted to apologize, but Adrian brushed it off, repeating mercilessly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go take this fucking break. I don’t want to hear from you in my earpiece for the next ten minutes. Understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… Yeah, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed, but he finally relented, taking off his earbud and leaving his office room. He was dying to get back to his computer, but he knew that he would still be distracted, and he couldn’t allow himself to be. Myra was working at the moment, so Eddie had the flat for himself. Going to the kitchen, he poured himself some orange juice, grabbing a cereal bar in the cupboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand grabbed his phone and, despite his hesitation, he decided to text Richie, his fingers typing quickly:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m exiled to my own kitchen, can you believe it? My coworker threatened to call HR if I didn’t take a break.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t sure Richie would answer, but he did shortly after, his answer getting him to smile:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You could have a longer break if he did call HR. A permanent, even.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes fondly, answering while sipping on his juice:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to be fired, thank you very much. I happen to like my job. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was texting him back quickly, probably having nothing better to do at the moment. Eddie couldn’t believe that his friend would deliberately choose to make small talk with him, if he had something else to do…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who likes to be a risk analyst? I’m sorry to say it, Eddie, but you’re a weirdo. Lucky for you, I’m a weirdo myself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, Richie was definitely a </span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>weirdo”, as he said so himself. He waltzed into Eddie’s life and, in such a short amount of time, managed to turn it upside down, bringing him to do things he never even dreamed he could accomplish before. Watching a movie with a friend. Being invited to someone else’s place. Sending texts that weren’t professional, just because he could. Because his friend would answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile stretched on his lips, Eddie let himself be carried away, typing on his phone and sending it before he could think it through:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We should hang out together again. You know, between weirdos.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t answer immediately. Eddie worried instantly, wondering if he had been too forward, too clingy, if, perhaps, Richie wanted to spend time with someone else than the sick guy he was babysitting during their runs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting on his bottom lip, he attempted to call Richie and apologize. His anxiety grew higher when Richie hung up on him immediately, Eddie reaching his voicemail in less than a few seconds. He didn’t leave a message, trying to process what happened and how he felt about it. If Richie didn’t even want to talk to him, why should he bother?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s phone vibrated, and he read the last text he received, raising an eyebrow at the sight:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t call me, please. Texts only. I can’t take a call. Not now, not ever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie could see that Richie started to answer, but he stopped in his tracks, leaving Eddie’s text on “read”. Eddie sighed, trying to alleviate the weight on his shoulders, to forget about the sudden lump in his throat, but he hadn’t been successful. He had felt so giddy a few minutes before, thinking about his time with Richie. But he was probably too naive… It definitely didn’t mean as much for Richie as it did for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t surprising. Richie was the type of person who could make a friend out of pretty much anyone else, if he gave it a try. But Eddie… Well, Eddie couldn’t be bothered to remember his closest coworker’s name, so there’s that. And he reacted to a simple movie night as if he had the best evening of his life (which was the case, sadly). How pathetic was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head at the thought, washing his glass, before texting Richie apologetically:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. We don’t even have to hang out again. You probably have better things to do anyway. See you tomorrow for our jogging session.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After sending that, Eddie put his phone in his pocket, going back to his office room. He was stupid. He was so stupid… He was supposed to be forty and, yet, he behaved like a fucking teenager! Richie was an adult, unlike himself. He looked at their relationship in a mature way. He didn’t think of them as BFF or anything weird and idiotic like that. Richie didn’t need a clingy friend, and Eddie was definitely one…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to start working again when his cellphone vibrated. A call? Was it from Richie? But he thought…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi? Richie, is that you? Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m calling from a payphone. If it’s not from my own cellphone, then it’s okay, I guess. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie heard him take a deep breath, and as much as he wanted to talk, he forced himself to remain silent, waiting for Richie to say something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the one who should ask you if you’re okay. Why the melodramatic text? I never said I didn’t want to hang out with you again, Eds. If anything, I’m the one who keeps insisting for it to happen once more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh… I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie at a loss for words… That was definitely a rare instance. Even Richie, despite the fact that they didn’t know each other for long, was aware that it was quite weird, coming from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay? Should I come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was very tempted to answer “yes”. To greet Richie at his home, spend time with him, knowing that Myra wouldn’t be back until way later. That she wouldn’t be aware of what was happening at their flat. But he promised her that he wouldn’t see Richie again, outside of their running sessions, without consulting her first. Eddie sighed, answering with a hint of regret in his voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My break isn’t supposed to last. And I’m okay, it’s just...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his bottom lip:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to think I’m ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, I swear. Eds, I’m the ridiculous one, remember? The ridiculous jerk with the jerk car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled at his words. He didn’t really want to admit to Richie that he had been distracted all day and even longer, because he kept thinking about their movie night. It was definitely pathetic… But Richie promised him again that he wouldn’t mock him, and, for some reason, Eddie really wanted to believe him. Pacing nervously in his room, he finally let him know, his cheeks red and warm to the touch:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh… I keep thinking about our movie night. I think it’s the best evening I ever had with anyone else. No, scratch that, it’s just the best evening ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughed, a laugh far from happy, hiding his face behind his hand, as if it would allow him to feel less embarrassed about it all. It didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How stupid is that, right? I mean… The movie wasn’t even that good. They destroyed a 250…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A 250 GT California Spyder, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s thoughts came to a halt, hearing Richie’s words. An odd feeling invaded his mind, something he couldn’t quite identify, and he found himself stuttering, asking with a giddy voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You remember it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, you repeated that so many times, I’m bound to memorize it after a while.” Richie chuckled, but he quickly went back to being serious. “It’s not stupid, by the way. I… I really enjoyed it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hesitated on his words, starting a sentence, cutting himself promptly, sighing heavily in Eddie’s ear. He finally managed to admit, with a voice barely audible:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t had much fun since… you know. So, it’s pretty much my greatest evening too, for quite a while now. It’s nothing to feel embarrassed about. I had a good time, you too, so we should do that again, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right… Right, they should do that again. If only if it were that simple… Eddie could just accept it right away and start planning it thoroughly with Richie. He bit his bottom lip, admitting with a shameful tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh… I don’t know when we could do that. I… I have to talk about it with Myra first, maybe she planned something or… uh...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew very well that Myra didn’t plan anything. They were usually spending their evenings at home, not doing much, aside from watching TV or reading a book, when they didn’t do anything related to Eddie’s health and well-being. He could easily allow himself to spend time with Richie, but he had to convince his wife before. Given how difficult it had been the first time, Eddie wasn’t sure it would happen again…..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, gotta see it with the Miss, I get it. I mean, no, I don’t, but you do you, Eds. If she’s being difficult, let me know, alright? I’m always down for a good talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grimaced at the idea. The last time Richie and Myra saw each other, Richie ended up breaking down in front of her, and he really didn’t want it to happen again. Myra would know how to use it against him, if necessary… She could be quite ruthless, when she wished to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie really wanted to keep talking with Richie, but the minutes were ticking, and he</span>
  <em>
    <span> definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>should get back to his work, before it became obvious to anyone, aside from Adrian, that Eddie was currently slacking off? He sighed, mumbling that he had to go back to what he was doing. Before he hung up, Richie interrupted him quickly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, before you leave… I wanted to tell you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie took a deep breath. Visibly, what he had to say wasn’t easy to let out…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t give you the details, but I have a voicemail from my husband on my phone and, uh… I’m not ready to hear anyone else’s voice coming from my phone, you know. But this payphone is okay and, aside from that, we can still text. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to talk to you, alright? It’s just, you know...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Complicated?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie let out an approving hum from his throat, while Eddie felt a lump forming in his own. He couldn’t imagine the pain his friend was going through. As much as Eddie was himself suffering, he could at least tell himself that he had Myra by his side (even if it was too much, too often). Richie didn’t even have that. Of course, he would have a hard time calling anyone… Eddie should have been more mindful. And he hadn’t been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it, Richie. Texts only. If I need to hear your voice, I’ll send you a text to tell you to go to the payphone, and I’ll wait for your call. Would that be okay with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend didn’t hesitate long before he answered:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just fine. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Richie. I… I really have to go, though. As soon as I talked about it all to Myra, I’ll text you to see how we should meet again. Alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie just needed to negotiate with Myra. He had to brave, just like Richie, who had enough courage to admit </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he couldn’t handle taking a phone call on his cell at the moment. As much as he dreaded it, Eddie knew that he didn’t have much choice. He really wanted to have a movie night with Richie again… Maybe more. Or something else, he didn’t know what yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Eddie managed to hang up the phone, cursing when he noticed how long his break lasted. He hurried to his chair, putting his earpiece back, and typing frenetically on his keyboard. His coworker’s amused laugh reached his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back, Eddie. I thought you left me forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Adrian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you too.” Adrian chuckled. “So, about this file…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie did his best to get back to work. After talking to Richie, it was way easier to do so. And maybe Adrian wasn’t so annoying, after all… If anything, he actually started to think that he might be nice. Nice enough to remember his name. But not to see him as a friend yet. Eddie only had a friend. And this friend was none other than Richie Covall.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, Eddie's more and more smitten with Richie, even if he's still considering him as a friend for now, while Richie's struggling with his own feelings, while trying to be there for Eddie. What a complicated situation... Hopefully, it'll get easier with time ;). And yeah, I put Adrian in my story again, I couldn't resist! I was wondering who could fit this coworker's temperament, and it turns out Adrian was the best, yeah xD. Hope you appreciated it!</p><p>Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you'll have a good day and a good week. </p><p>I also hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay c:. Welcome to the seventh chapter of this fanfic! I finally got around to write it, after my awful meltdown yesterday. I had a good time writing it, and I really hope you'll appreciate it c:. Thank you all for your support and for sticking around.</p><p>With that said, here are the Trigger Warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for mention of abuse</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took almost two months for Beverly to finally accept to meet Richie, after their last (disastrous) encounter. When he received her text, Richie had immediately jumped on the occasion, afraid that he would miss his chance if he didn't. He was still cringing whenever he remembered this event, his harsh, terrible words, how mean and awful he had been to her, when she only tried to help…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True, Richie didn't want people to fuss over him. He was handling his grief perfectly fine, thank you very much. And no, he wouldn't take any criticism on this matter. But he probably  could have avoided bringing up Beverly's childhood trauma and throwing it in her face. He definitely should have, anyway. And he didn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, Richie started to think she would never talk to him again, not that he would blame her for that. Even Ben kept his distance, probably sympathizing with Beverly's pain and waiting for her to make her choice before coming back into Richie's life. Their absence had been hurtful, an empty space that, he hoped, would be filled again pretty soon. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed his friends in his life. If only they could stop bringing up </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>topic he didn't want to talk about, and let him deal with it all however he wanted…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that it wouldn't be the case. That Ben and Beverly would immediately go back to being concerned about him and all, if they accepted to be a part of his life again. But Richie needed them more than anything else, and he was ready to put up with that, if he had to. Even if he would probably give them the silent treatment while they were fussing over him, so that he wouldn't say something hurtful once more…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev had invited him to come over, and Richie agreed, feeling less anxious, knowing that they wouldn't be at his flat to talk. Steve's presence was everywhere in his home, and Richie's heart felt incredibly heavy, his feelings all over the place, his emotions not much better. He'd probably be less quick to snap back at whatever Beverly would say to him, at her apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers closed on the flower bouquet he bought for her, Richie rang the bell, his left foot tapping nervously on the floor. When Beverly opened the door, he immediately shoved the bouquet in her arms, barely able to look at her. She grabbed it with a surprised expression on her face, glancing at the flowers, then at Richie, before asking him, her eyebrow raised:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you trying to buy my forgiveness, Richie?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gulped at her words. At the moment, he couldn't get a good read on her, unable to determine if she was really upset or if she was merely going for a tough joke, as she could sometimes do. Fiddling with his glasses, he let out in a squeaky voice, the word barely making it past his throat:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"… Maybe?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't know how she would react, and he was utterly relieved when she finally chuckled, stepping back so that he could enter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, at least, you have some taste. They're beautiful."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly put them in a vase, while Richie followed her sheepishly, glancing around. He thought Ben would be there as well, maybe as moral support or something. He asked her about that, and she answered with a smile:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Ben is totally invested in his new project, he's in a meeting right now. He's obsessed with the idea of total accessibility, and he's sure he can succeed in making his new building welcoming to as many people as possible."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben was a bundle of kindness and altruism, always putting everyone else before himself. Of course, he'd want to build a place where everyone could come, no matter who they were. Richie recognized his friend in this project, which might seem naive and idealistic, but was most likely very well planned and executed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, as much as he loved Ben, Richie was reassured to know he wouldn't be there. He wouldn't be able to bear his soft and pitiful glances while he would be apologizing to Bev for his behavior and his terrible words. He didn't deserve his compassion. He didn't want it, anyway. Richie was doing just fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly guided him to her couch, Richie sitting down and shaking his legs, while his friend was opening a window, before she lit up a cigarette. Richie suddenly realized that he hadn't smoked at all since he met Eddie. He would only smoke occasionally before, mostly when he was partying, but he didn't even think about it, until Bev lit up her own cigarette. He was pretty sure Eddie would despise the smell. Maybe it might even be bad for his health, this passive smoking, even if Richie wouldn't do so in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly offered him one, and he declined, not wanting to let himself be tempted again after their encounter. If he didn't feel the need to smoke those last two months or so, he shouldn't do it now. Beverly gazed at him silently for a little while, before she said thoughtfully, fidgeting with her cigarette:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stan was right. There's definitely something different with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie rolled his eyes at her words. He knew he was there to apologize, but he was still very much annoyed, letting her know that immediately:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, you're all talking about me when I'm not around, right? Great, I love being the subject of small talk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can't expect us not to worry about you, Richie. It's been almost a year, and you spent most of it vegetating in your flat, even on the brink of catatonia sometimes. Then, suddenly, you're deciding that you're gonna start running daily. And you're actually cleaning up the mess in your flat and all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bit his bottom lip. He hadn't planned to talk much about himself, to be honest. And he definitely didn't want to bring up Eddie. Beverly wouldn't quietly accept that he was openly lying to this man, who had his husband's heart. He was in the wrong, and he knew it. Yet, Richie didn't want it to stop. Not when Eddie was slowly progressing towards happiness, and Steve as well, as a result…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe I just decided to get a hold of myself, after all this time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly shook her head, her lips closing on her cigarette, inhaling before she shared her thoughts, a skeptical look on her face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie, you're still not sleeping in your room. Am I wrong?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced spontaneously, and it was all Beverly needed to know. No, she was right. He barely stepped in this fucking room, during those last months. He couldn't bring himself to do it, to sleep there when Steve wasn't there to spoon him, when he couldn't hear his chatty husband mumbling while dreaming. He just couldn't. It would feel so empty, so lonely, and Richie… Richie didn't have the strength to handle that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The couch is super comfy. It would be a shame to waste it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie knew that Beverly wouldn't buy his pathetic attempt at a joke, but she decided to let it slide. Thank God, he thought, but it didn't last for long…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You hurt me, Richie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words stung, and Richie lowered his head, losing his smile. He knew that. He knew that very well. He still remembered the rage, the pain, her teary eyes… She tried to show him that she understood him, and he pushed her away in the worst way possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can brush off a lot of things. But what you said, I just can't forgive it. Especially coming from you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years ago, Richie had been the first person Beverly confided in, about her father's abuse. On his own, he hadn't been able to convince her to go to the cops, but when she finally trusted Ben, then Stan, they all managed to persuade her to do so, ending the cycle of misery and hurt after all this time. More than anyone, Richie should know how sensitive of a topic it was for her… And he still used it against his friend. He was the worst…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm… I'm so, so sorry, Bev. I will never ask you to forgive me for what I said."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good, because I don't intend to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie's heart shattered at her words. He expected Beverly to ask him to leave at any second, but she didn't. Instead, she put down her cigarette, trying to meet his gaze:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you're still my friend, Richie. You fucked up bad, though, and if you ever say something like that to me again, I'll cut you off from my life. You're on thin ice, dude."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was more than he deserved. Looking at her with gratitude, Richie grabbed her hand, squeezing it tenderly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you. Thank you so much. I swear, I will never..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't make promises you're not sure you can keep, Richie. I know you, and I know me. I'm not gonna drop the subject "Steve" because you're pretending that you're okay. And you're not going to like it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, indeed, he hated it. He didn't want to talk about Steve. Especially in the past tense. He was still his husband, for better and for worse. His ring was hugging Richie's finger, forcing him to remember at every second what he lost so brutally. But Steve wasn't totally gone. His heart was keeping Eddie alive, and Richie was decided to offer him a better life. A life worthy of Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, what's up with the healthy stuff and the running, Richie? It's so far from you, I'm actually wondering if you're really Richie Tozier."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly shrugged, crossing her legs:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess you are, given how you spoke to Stan. You really upset him, you know? I had to help him keeping Patty from going to your place and biting your head off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shivered at the thought. As soft and loving Patty was, she was definitely not to be underestimated, especially when it came to Stanley. Richie still remembered the way she stood up for him in front of his whole family, when his father attempted to shame Stanley for his OCD and his depression. So much fury, coming from such a tiny body… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, thanks. I… uh… I probably should talk to them too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, really. What the fuck, dude?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly's anger was palpable, even more than when she let him know how much he hurt her. Richie massaged his neck awkwardly, thinking back to those moments where he had just been an awful friend to the people he loved the most, only because he couldn't handle their worry and the truth that it carried. What the fuck, indeed… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly poured him a drink, while Richie was trying to keep his emotions in check. He wasn't going to cry, not in front of her, not after what he did to her. Even though it hurt, knowing how much an asshole he had been, how much he had almost lost, because of his own stupidity… Sipping distractedly on his drink, he nearly spilled it all when Beverly talked again, going straight to the point:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stan saw you with a guy. The guy you're running with."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! How? When? Noticing his facial expression, Beverly answered his silent questions:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He wanted to come seeing you recently, so he thought he could say hello on his way to work. That's when he saw you both. He said you looked… happy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly downed her own drink, sighing afterward:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He doesn't know the guy. He described it to Ben and me, and I have honestly no idea who he might be. A new friend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trapped. Richie was trapped! He didn't prepare at all for this moment, for what was about to happen… He gulped, his legs shaking even more. Time to lie… He could do that, right? Convincingly, he hoped. Beverly didn't need to know much. Just the basics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh… We met at Central Park. I convinced myself to step out of the flat for a little while and we… we met, and we started to talk and all. Not long after, he persuaded me to come running with him, and I have done so every morning since then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly nodded thoughtfully at his words, her gaze piercing his own very intently, as if she was trying to read his mind. He hoped she wouldn't ask for more information, but it was Beverly he was talking to…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wonder what the guy said to you to convince you to run. You were never much of a sportsman."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughed nervously, fiddling with his glasses:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, well, you know… I think he just needed the company. Me too, honestly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he showed her a hint of vulnerability, as if he was truly opening up to her, Beverly wouldn't try prodding too much, right? The manipulative thought left a bad taste in his mouth, but Richie couldn't decently tell her about Eddie and their relationship's true nature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips stretched into a smile. Beverly played with her hair, suggesting with a warm voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think we should all meet the guy. I bet he's fun to be around, if he managed to get your attention. We..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"NO!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn't think it through. The word came out brutally from his throat before he managed to stop himself, the fear taking over. If Beverly, Stan, and Ben met Eddie, it would be all over. They would definitely notice his lies, starting with his last name (so that Eddie wouldn't be able to trace him back), and the rest would be known afterward, he knew it. Richie couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his outburst clearly intrigued Beverly, clever Beverly, who was glaring at him with an intense look, asking with a merciless tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie, is there something you should tell us?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There definitely was, but no way he was ever going to let them know about it! Richie laughed awkwardly, massaging his neck, trying to come up with something. Maybe half the truth would make it easier to convince her than a full lie… He didn't intend to talk about Eddie at all, and he had the feeling he was about to betray him, spilling the beans on his life to a woman he didn't know at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ahem… Eddie is… How should I put it? He's very stuck up. And he had a Mormon-like childhood, so he doesn't have many friends. I don't want to overwhelm him, not so soon. Maybe later?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By this point, Richie would have managed to help Eddie have a better life, and he'd quietly step out of his existence, allowing him to be happy and carefree. At least, that's what he intended to do at first, when he decided to support him. And, despite how much he appreciated him, Richie was still determined to do so, when the time would come. Eddie deserved better than a liar as his friend…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A Mormon-like childhood, you say?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly didn't seem to believe him, and Richie couldn't blame her. And yet, he only said the truth… Part of it, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Can you believe he never watched Indiana Jones his whole life? His wife thinks that it's "too violent" for him..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie rolled his eyes, while Beverly's look of utter surprise and disbelief was a sight to behold. He almost laughed at it, too anxious about the whole thing to allow himself to do it fully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you fucking serious?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dead serious, Bev. The guy has pretty much only watched Christian stuff when he was younger, and it's not much better now. I'm just trying to widen his horizon a little."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly's eyes were still widened, his friend having trouble to accept that such a thing was even possible. She shook her head, fidgeting with her hair:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For fuck's sake…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could see her gears running wild, and he was pretty sure that her protective side was awakening, at the thought of Eddie's vulnerability. She had been the same with Ben from the very start, helping him with his poor self-esteem, managing to convince him that he didn't need to lose any weight to be worthy of anyone's love, when he was bordering on an eating disorder, during their teen years. Ben was just fine the way he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat, getting Beverly's attention:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Remember? Secluded guy, not many friends? You're gonna scare him off, Bev. I'll tell you when he's ready to meet anyone else."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend sighed, but she finally conceded after a while:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine. Later, then. If he managed to get you to leave your flat, clean your mess, and do some exercise as well, I guess he's good for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She poked his forehead, letting him know with a gentle smile:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Still, it doesn't mean that you're all good, Richie. You should see someone. Talk about..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bev."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie interrupted her, avoiding her gaze:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, don't. If you keep going, I'm gonna say something bad and… and I don't want to lose you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie, come on..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at her, his teary eyes begging her more than his words could ever express. She actually gasped at his expression, so different from the Richie she always knew. Silently, she sat closer to him, putting her arm over his shoulder, resting her head against his neck. He could feel his lips wobbling, the sobs he was holding back desperately trying to come out. God, he was so pathetic… He came to Beverly to apologize, but they mostly talked about him, and now, she was actually trying to console him. How pitiful…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, Richie." She whispered softly to his ear, tightening her grip on his shoulder. "Okay, for now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A choked-up whimper finally made it past his lips, and it was enough to get him to break down in front of Beverly, as he didn't allow himself to do it in front of his friends during the last year or so. His whole body trembling, he started to cry and tearfully apologized, again and again, to Beverly, sure, but also to everyone he hurt, to Steve. Even to Eddie, that he was lying to for his own benefit, as much as he tried to convince himself that he was doing so to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly didn't talk. She didn't attempt to comfort him with meaningless sentences, only letting him know that she was there, no matter how much of an ass he had been towards her, towards everyone he loved. And Richie let it all out, all of the tears he was trying to hold back out of pride and utter denial. He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and Beverly didn't move. She stayed with him all along, strong, reliable, loyal. What did he do to deserve such a friend?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days passed. Richie didn't answer Beverly's last text, feeling utterly embarrassed about how he broke down in her arms. He knew that she didn't mind, but still… After he hurt her that way, she shouldn't have to put up with his suffering. With… with him at all, really. So, he let her on "read", for her own sake. She had better things to do, better people to be with than Richie fucking Tozier. Besides, at least, he was sure that he wasn't going to say anything hurtful to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly warned him, she only agreed to drop the subject temporarily. She would insist again that he needed help, and Richie… Well, Richie would most likely put his foot in his mouth and ruin the second chance she gave him. Like the selfish asshole that he was. Shaking his head, he chased those thoughts away, focusing on his cleaning spree instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie still hasn't offered for them to see each other, aside from their daily running session, but Richie wanted to be sure that he was ready, just in case. But he didn't even open his bedroom door, knowing very well that he wouldn't clean any inch of it. Not when Steve was still in there, his presence, the memories he had of him, everything…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie just finished mopping the floor when his cellphone vibrated, a text coming from Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Call me, please?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn't help, but worry at his words. The last time Eddie asked him to call, he was actually experiencing a panic attack because Myra convinced him that he was on the verge of an infection and that he should take his workdays off. Richie barely managed to calm him down, comforting him fully the next day, going over his "symptoms" to let him know that he was doing fine, while Myra was away at her workplace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was already anxious enough about his health condition, he didn't need his wife's paranoia (and manipulation) on top of it all. Richie didn't know what to make of Myra, but she definitely pissed him off this day. His heart was beating quickly while he was calling Eddie on the payphone next to his building, one of the few still in service around here:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eds, are you okay? What happened?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie seemed taken aback by his concern, remaining silent for a few seconds, before he managed to say:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I… uh… I'm fine. It's just… uh… How should I put it? I..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie started to stammer and ramble, and, despite himself, Richie smiled fondly, picturing very well the awkward (and oh so endearing) behavior of his friend. Eddie was always adorable when he was flustered, and he definitely didn't like it when Richie pointed it out to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I… It's almost a year since I received my heart transplantation. And… uh… I'd like to celebrate that with you. If… If you want to, of course."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie froze up at his words, his fingers tightening on the phone. A year… A year since Eddie received his heart, Steve's heart. A year since Richie lost his husband. A year… A fucking year!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie? Can you hear me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Richie did his best to keep his feelings and his voice under control. If Eddie were to know that Steve died just before his operation, it would add to the piles of suspicious stuff that would allow him to put two and two together. He couldn't know. He shouldn't know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can hear you. I… hem… Congrats, Eds."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks, I guess. I only went back to the hospital for a few programmed visits, nothing bad. It's… It's definitely a good sign. I think my body's getting really used to its new heart. Maybe I'll be able to keep it for… for a little while."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about his husband's heart failing, because it was the last living thing remaining from him, and he needed to know that he was</span>
  <em>
    <span> fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That Steve was doing okay, despite everything. That was also why Richie couldn't afford to stay close to Eddie indefinitely. When he'd be able to stand up for himself, Richie would go. Before… Before Steve's heart…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat, shaking his head and forcing a smile on his lips, if only to convince himself that he was doing okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine. It's just… Wow, Eds, I'm so glad for you. You deserve it, you know. To live a happy and healthy life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm working hard for that, that's for sure. So, uh, I was thinking that maybe I could crash at your place? I still need to talk to Myra about that, but… But I really want to do it, so it's definitely going to happen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crashing at his place… It would mean that Eddie was going to spend the night there. Sleep at his flat. Richie's thoughts wandered towards his… no,</span>
  <em>
    <span> their</span>
  </em>
  <span> bedroom, it was still Steve's, and he felt his heart skipping a bit. No way he would let Eddie even enter it! No fucking way! He… He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I… I would understand if you don't want to, Richie. It's okay. We can still go to a nice Café after our jogging session and drink something there to celebrate it. Don't sweat it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his words, Richie could clearly hear how disappointed and hurt Eddie was. He bit his bottom lip, not knowing what to do. It was clearly a big step for Eddie, and he even seemed ready to confront Myra about it… Richie couldn't decently refuse that to him, not when he was trying to help him become more self-assured. He finally relented, trying to think about a way to do it without involving them spending time in his… in their room:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no, I would love it, Eds. We definitely need to celebrate it! An alcohol-free party, of course. We wouldn't want to ruin it all, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughed, and, hearing this sound, Richie felt the heavy weight on his shoulders being lifted a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'll figure it out… He would figure it all out, he just knew it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah, Richie... He's doing better with some stuff, and doing a lot worse with other things. He's taking better care of his body, but he still doesn't allow his mind to grieve properly, and that's not helping. Bev tries her best, but she also has her own stuff to deal with. I thought she wouldn't forgive Richie so easily, she knows that if he ever fucks up again like he did, she wouldn't be even able to bring herself to talk to him again. For now, she's okay with seeing him, even if she's still upset about his words. She can have harsh words too, especially when she's hurt, so she knows what Richie's going through..</p><p>Eddie's trying his best too, and he's going to talk to Myra to spend a whole night at Richie's place! Can't wait to write it all c:.</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay. Welcome to the eighth chapter of this fanfic!<br/>I hope you'll appreciate it, I really liked writing it. I'm getting super attached to this story and the characters, it's a match :D. </p><p>Thank you all for your support, it means the world to me c:. With that said, here are the trigger warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for panic attack<br/>TW for mention of bullying</p><p>I think that's all c:. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His face was red, and his breathing ragged, when Eddie slammed the door of his flat, closing himself from his wife's endless complaining. He didn't remember the last time he had been so angry, especially towards Myra, but he was. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Eddie cursed under his breath, punching the nearest wall, trying desperately to calm himself down. It couldn't be good for his heart, how tense he was at the moment…</p><p>Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He knew that it would be bad when he decided to talk to Myra about his future night at Richie's place, but he probably didn't brace himself enough for the way their discussion went. Calling it a "discussion" was too generous on his part, actually. As soon as he started to suggest the idea (stopping himself from tenderly calling her "Marty" at the last second, recognizing the unfortunate pattern), Myra immediately wondered if she did something wrong. If that was his way of telling her that she wasn't there enough for him.</p><p>No, it wasn't. Of course, it wasn't! Eddie wanted to celebrate his new heart's anniversary, and he wished to do it with his first real friend, what was wrong with that? It wasn't like he didn't intend to do the same with Myra, on the contrary. Eddie already booked the restaurant, and paid for an entire day at his wife's favorite spa (he himself hated to have literal strangers hovering over him and touching his body, but he knew how much Myra loved it and how happy she would be), a gift he planned to reveal to her during their lunch.</p><p>But apparently, it was criminal of him to also want to commemorate this important milestone with Richie. To spend the rest of the weekend with him, after his fancy meal with Myra. She always used the same excuses, worrying for his health, but Eddie started progressively to see her concern for what it really was: a jail. A prison to keep him from venturing outside.</p><p>Eddie knew that his physical state was an important matter, but he wasn't made of glass, and he trusted Richie to be there for him if needed. It should be his choice, and his choice only. And yet, Myra seemed convinced that she had her say on the matter. That, if she disagreed with him, he shouldn't do it, simply enough. And, sure, a few months ago, Eddie wouldn't have thought twice about it. He would have given up on his "foolish" idea, because his wife knew better, because she deserved better from him.</p><p>But now? Now, Eddie was <em>furious.  </em>And he didn't know how to evacuate it. He thought about texting Richie, so that he would call him, but he remembered that his friend was meeting an acquaintance, and that he wouldn't be available. Richie had a whole life, aside from the moments he was spending with Eddie, and, to be honest, Eddie was quite envious of that.</p><p>When he wasn't seeing Richie, Eddie didn't have any friends to meet. He didn't really have an exciting hobby or a life that interesting. Myra was his whole world, taking care of him, making choices for both of them, building their life from the get-go. Eddie was utterly passive, watching his own existence unfolding without a say in the matter, and he only realized now how terrible it was. And pathetic as well.</p><p>The anger slowly died down, leaving room for a feeling Eddie really didn't want to experience: anxiety. Myra did have some good arguments, after all… There wouldn't be the memory foam mattress she specially bought for him in Richie's flat, and he might strain his back. And what about his mild sleep apnea episodes? </p><p>Eddie actually rolled his eyes at this point. He didn't experience those in <em> months,  </em>notably thanks to his daily jogging session, despite how concerned she was about him practicing sport so regularly. She didn't appreciate him reminding him of those facts, and started to sob, claiming that she would never forgive herself if he were to die in his sleep, because she allowed him to go to someone else's place.</p><p>At the thought, Eddie audibly gasped, his hands attempting to reach for an inhaler that wasn't there. What if it happened? What if he died in Richie's apartment? So many terrible things could happen, and… and… Eddie wheezed, teary eyes, feeling light-headed. He told Myra he would go pick up his prescription, the only way he found to leave before he started to insult her in a way he would definitely regret, but Eddie was pretty sure he wouldn't even be able to step out of their building…</p><p>He couldn't let himself listen to the pernicious and toxic voice that was trying to convince him to give up. To turn back on his heels, apologize to Myra and let her know that he wouldn't go to Richie's place. She was right, after all. It was too risky. And for what? If he were to spend so much time with his friend, he probably would realize how boring and uninteresting Eddie truly was. It would be a miracle, if he still wanted to run with him, after that…</p><p>"P… Pull yourself together, Eds..."</p><p>Eddie didn't know why the nickname slipped past his lips, but using it seemed to tone down the voice in his head ever so slightly. As if Richie was there by his side, supporting him… Eddie slid on the floor, attempting to control his breathing, failing to do so at the moment. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. </p><p>He was strong. Stronger than that. Eddie survived years and years of a failing heart, when some doctors didn't even think that he would make it to adulthood. He pulled himself through when lady luck wasn't on his side, the first heart he was supposed to get failing right before he was operated on. The devastating news strained his mother so much that it might as well have been the cause of her death, but he didn't give up. He kept believing that he would live, and he did, despite all odds.</p><p>And yet, Eddie couldn't stop being afraid. He was shaking, curling up on himself like a fearful child, unable to face the monsters under his bed. He could die. He might die. He <em> was  </em>going to die! Eddie couldn't do that to Richie. He knew his friend would feel responsible, guilty, even though he wouldn't be. If he truly died, Eddie would be the one at fault. Because he didn't listen to his wife. Because he was so fucking stubborn!</p><p>"H… Hey!"</p><p>Eddie tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were shut, keeping him in the dark. It was a panic attack, he knew it, but it didn't make it easier to have it under control, especially when he was so far gone. He heard a ruffling noise, items being put on the ground, and the crinkling of a paper bag. A familiar voice let him know gently, with a mild stutter:</p><p>"B-Breathe into this, it's going to… to help. Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in..."</p><p>Bill, his neighbor, spoke softly and slowly, helping Eddie to regulate his breathing. He wrinkled his nose at the dusty smell in the paper bag, but he didn't recoil, following the man's instructions. His calm demeanor and the praise he constantly gave him to let Eddie know that he was doing good really helped. Soon enough, he found himself able to open his eyes, his eyelids fluttering at the sudden onset of light. </p><p>Bill's smile greeted him, the man knelt in front of him, surrounded by books he probably pulled from the paper bag he was still holding to Eddie's face. When it seemed like Eddie would be able to breathe regularly without any help, the man started to gather his stuff, standing up. Eddie honestly thought that his neighbor would leave him behind at this point, but Bill helped him up on his feet, supporting his weight when it was obvious that Eddie wouldn't be able to do it on his own. </p><p>As if everything was perfectly normal, as if Bill didn't just witness his neighbor's full-on panic attack, the man politely offered, pointing at the door of his own apartment:</p><p>"Would you like some tea? M… Mike and I are always drinking one, at this hour of the d-day."</p><p>Eddie couldn't refuse this offer. Sure, he would literally be unable to go anywhere without Bill's support, but he also really needed the company. Myra's sobs and warnings hovered over his brain, making the pernicious voice in his mind stronger, threatening to let it control him again. He couldn't let that happen… </p><p>Eddie had trouble talking, but he managed to silently agree, nodding to show his approval. He never went to Bill and Mike's place before… They sometimes discussed in the hallway, keeping their small talk short and concise, but they never visited each other's flat. Myra and Eddie rarely had guests, and Eddie never dared to accept his neighbors' invitations, knowing that he would have to consult his wife and that it would probably launch a discussion he didn't want to experience.</p><p>But Myra didn't have to know that he was visiting them. And if she did? Well, he wasn't doing anything wrong! Besides, if she had accepted that he celebrated his heart's anniversary instead of fighting him needlessly and insistently, Eddie would have never found himself in this situation in the first place. So, if anything… It was her own doing!</p><p>Satisfied with this thought, Eddie sighed when Bill helped him on their couch, resting against the soft material. Mike was already pouring them a cup of tea, handing Eddie a cereal bar. He thanked him silently, managing to put a smile on his lips, before raising the mug carefully to his mouth, his hands trembling under its weight. He managed to take a sip before putting it down, the warm liquid relaxing his throat. Eddie took a deep breath, articulating slowly:</p><p>"T… Thank you. It's really good."</p><p>"You're welcome, Eddie. Take all the time you need." </p><p>Mike's concern was obvious, but it wasn't smothering. He didn't attempt to grab his cup from his hands or to help him drink it, something that Myra would have inevitably done at this point. It was… It was refreshing, for sure.</p><p>Bill thanked Mike as well, complimenting him for his "wonderful tea". Mike blushed slightly, shaking his head and muttering something that Eddie didn't quite hear. Bill nudged him playfully, before he focused back on Eddie, inquiring about his well-being:</p><p>"Are you starting to feel any buh-better? It was quite an intense episode, back there..."</p><p>In any other situation, Eddie would have deflected, maybe even retorted harshly that it was none of his business, because of how embarrassed he would be to be caught in this situation. But right now, Eddie felt… safe. Mike and Bill both looked so peaceful, relaxing him easily. They greeted him in their home as if it was nothing, as if he always belonged here and had a place there all along…</p><p>Eddie didn't feel cornered or trapped. He didn't have the impression that his words and his behavior might be held back against him at some point. They weren't fussing over him, and they weren't making it a big deal either. So, he answered frankly, after taking a bite of his cereal bar:</p><p>"Yes, thank you. You really helped, Bill..."</p><p>The man shrugged, his hand reaching for Mike's and squeezing it tenderly, without a second thought. At the sight, Eddie wondered when was the last time he had been so casually affectionate with his wife… </p><p>"I'm used to it. My brother, Georgie, he… he experienced this kind of thing d-daily back when we were kids. I was usually the one to c-comfort him."</p><p>Eddie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He realized how little he knew of his neighbors, and he felt a bit guilty… After all, despite how short their conversations usually were, Mike and Bill cared enough to send him cards back when he was at the hospital, and they even handed him a box of chocolates for Myra's birthday. He should definitely make more efforts…</p><p>"I didn't know you have a brother." Eddie reached for his mug, taking a slow sip. "A little one?"</p><p>Bill's smile increased when he started to talk about his brother, making it obvious how much he loved him:</p><p>"Yeah, he's a radio officer on a cruise ship. He's often at sea, buh-but I'm sure you'll get to meet him at some point."</p><p>Eddie couldn't imagine living a life so exciting. He never stepped on a boat, not once… Actually, he didn't even go near the sea. Besides his old town and New-York, Eddie hadn't seen much of the world… Ignoring the heavy weight on his stomach, he drummed his fingers on his knees, allowing himself to look around him and discover the place he was in. </p><p>It looked so cozy and inviting… Warm, actually. Eddie foolishly thought that he wouldn't mind staying here forever before scolding himself internally for this idea. It wasn't like he'd have the opportunity to be back here… Myra barely allowed Richie in their life, she wasn't going to let two other strangers "steal" her husband from her. He sighed at the thought, raising his mug and choking on his tea when his gaze landed on something definitely outlandish. </p><p>Eddie coughed, wiping his mouth carelessly, before he pointed at the object who surprised him that way:</p><p>"I'm sorry?! Is it William Denbrough's new book? It's not supposed to come out before next month, it's…!"</p><p>He looked at Bill, then Mike, with a dumbfounded look, before the gears in his brain started working. His eyes met Bill's, who was currently chuckling awkwardly, massaging his neck nervously:</p><p>"Are you actually William Denbrough? <em>The </em>William Denbrough?"</p><p>"Well, yes. I took Mikey's name when we married, but I kept Denbrough as my p-pen-name. It's easier to have some anonymity that way. G-God knows how much of a luxury it is..."</p><p>Mike hummed approvingly, grabbing his husband's hand and caressing its back with his thumb, rubbing small circles on the skin. </p><p>"I don't think anyone in this building knows that my Bill is actually the famous author. When he's not wearing his glasses, he's looking very different, right? But still the most handsome man I've ever met..."</p><p>Bill hid his face behind his free hand, groaning embarrassingly, telling Mike to stop, but his voice was filled with love rather than annoyance. Eddie couldn't stop looking at them, picking apart the subtle ways they showed their affection to each other, how they always seemed to look for the other's touch, probably not consciously… There was something utterly alluring about their behavior. And totally unfamiliar. Or maybe not…</p><p>Before Eddie could linger on this thought any longer, Bill asked him with a concerned voice, his stutter getting slightly worse:</p><p>"I… I hope it does nuh-not change a thu-thing. Me being… you know..."</p><p>"Oh, uh, no! Of course, not!"</p><p>To be honest, Eddie never opened Bill's books, not much of a reader, preferring to watch a good movie. If anything, Myra was the one who actively bought them whenever they were released, gushing over the romance pouring literally from the stories. An idea came to his mind, and he awkwardly suggested, avoiding to look in Bill and Mike's direction:</p><p>"Well, actually… My wife is not very social, but… but I think she'd like to meet one of her favorite authors and, uh… I've been told you make a mean ratatouille, Bill, so…"</p><p>God, he was being so cringy! Why couldn't he just socialize like a normal person? Well, probably because he never learned to, spending most of his life secluded, but no matter! Eddie should know better!</p><p>"I'm sorry, forget about that, I wasn't… I shouldn't have..."</p><p>Eddie could feel his anxiety creeping back, but Bill was quick to calm him down, laughing openly:</p><p>"It's alright. It's perfectly alright. If it allows us to finally spend t-time together properly, then I think it's more than okay. But promise me that you'll both stay discreet abuh-buh-bout it, okay? Mike and I are really enjoying our tranquility here."</p><p>Eddie nodded, promising himself to insist on their much-needed secrecy when he'll talk about it to Myra. God, she was going to be so happy! Maybe she'd even forget about their fight and wouldn't think twice about letting him go to Richie's place… He could only hope, anyway. </p><p>"Of course, we won't say a thing. I swear! You've been so good to me, I wouldn't want to…"</p><p>"Nonsense, Eddie. It's been a while since we wanted you to join us for tea or a meal. We're just glad to finally have this opportunity."</p><p>Bill and Mike glanced at each other, as if they were able to communicate without any word uttered, before Mike kept talking, hints of worry and concern in his tone:</p><p>"We… um… We often heard screaming and such, and… and well, it seems like you could use someone to talk to. So, if you want to..."</p><p>Eddie, so open to discussing until then, suddenly closed off, putting his empty mug back on the table a bit brutally. The porcelain clinked noisily against the wood, and he stood up quickly, answering promptly:</p><p>"I should head back, Myra's waiting for me, I..."</p><p>His train of thoughts came to a halt, while he repeated himself, his gaze vacant:</p><p>"Myra's waiting for… for me."</p><p>Eddie got up too fast, the sudden motion making his head swim, his vision going black for a second. He fell back on the couch, utterly confused, pliant when Mike guided him into a more comfortable position, inviting him to lay down:</p><p>"I should head back..."</p><p>"Actually, I think you should g-get some rest, Eddie."</p><p>Bill gestured for Mike to bring a plaid, covering Eddie's body with the soft blanket. Reflexively, he closed his fingers on the material, a tired sigh escaping his parted lips. He just had a panic attack, and barely started to recover from it. Usually, he'd be more careful in his actions, but Mike's words triggered his fight-or-flight reaction, and Eddie's cautiousness had been muzzled by his anxiety, taking back control over him.</p><p>The way Mike warily broached the subject, offering him a safe space to talk… Eddie didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. His wife and himself were doing okay, thank you very much. They were dealing with a lot, Eddie's physical health and various medications taking a toll on them, so, of course, they were bound to have some tense discussions, but… but they were okay. Eddie was doing fine. Just fine. </p><p>They screamed at each other, but that was how it was supposed to happen, right? They always reconciled in the end, and it was all that mattered. Mike didn't know a thing. Eddie loved his wife, and Myra loved him as well. Simple enough. </p><p>And yet… And yet, Eddie's tired mind was getting filled with memories and feelings he'd like to put words on. He wanted to ask if Myra was right, if he was putting too much pressure on her, if he should be satisfied enough with her presence and not look so ungratefully for Richie's attention… He wondered what it was like to have a normal life, go to school, and make friends… Did Mike and Bill spend time apart? Why were they still looking for each other's hand, ever so tenderly?</p><p>Eddie's confused questions were soon drowned by his exhaustion, and he found himself napping on his neighbors' couch, his fists tightly closed on the plaid's fabric. Half an hour later, his phone's ringtone would wake him up, Myra's worried voice ushering him to come back. But right now, Eddie was merely sleeping, getting some much needed rest in Bill and Mike's apartment. He didn't have any nightmares, unlike most of his nights. No, Eddie rested peacefully, his fingers even relaxing on the blanket at some point. He was safe, here. Perfectly safe.</p><p>*</p><p>Eddie couldn't believe what he was eating. When he finally got to have this weekend with Richie, he expected him to order pretty much everything at the vegan restaurant nearby, like he did last time, but his friend actually took the time to learn some healthy recipes and prepare them specifically for him. And he was actually a damn good cook! Eddie let out a happy moan, and Richie laughed out loud, asking with an amused tone:</p><p>"So, are my lentil bolognese spaghettis good for my Eddie Spaghetti?"</p><p>Eddie didn't even care about the ridiculous nickname (Richie had so many for him at this point, anyway), nodding furiously at his question, swallowing what he already had in his mouth, so that he could praise him more:</p><p>"Are you kidding? It's fucking delicious! My god, you're spoiling me rotten!"</p><p>Eddie actually went to the restaurant with Myra the day before, and it was indeed a fancy place, but nothing he ate there could compare to how he was actually feeling, getting to taste Richie's recipe. His friend cooked that for him… He really did! Eddie almost cried at the thought, but he chased this foolish emotion away, knowing how stupid he would look if he did. </p><p>"It's your anniversary, Eddie. Of course, I'm going all the way and spoiling you rotten! You earned it, dude."</p><p>Richie barely touched his own plate, watching Eddie savoring his own dish, seemingly content with what he was witnessing. To be honest, Eddie wasn't sure he even liked what he cooked for him, but Richie did it anyway, knowing how much it would please him. And everything in this dish was healthy and either authorized or recommended for people in Eddie's situation. Richie really thought of everything…</p><p>"I… thank you. Thank you, really."</p><p>"Hearing you moaning over the food like you just had a fucking orgasm is thanks enough, Eds."</p><p>Eddie struggled to swallow his bite, his face red with embarrassment. He grumbled, playing nervously with his plate's content, using his fork:</p><p>"I'm not… I'm not <em>moaning. </em>"</p><p>"You were. You actually were." Richie snorted, fiddling with his glasses. "One more bite, and you're gonna purr like a kitten. A cute, cute, cute kitten!"</p><p>Richie pretended to pet him, and Eddie swatted his hand away, only causing him to laugh even more. Eddie rolled his eyes, asking frankly:</p><p>"How old are you? No, seriously, I feel like you're this close to starting a food fight."</p><p>"And waste hours of planning and preparation? No, thank you. But if you insist, I can order some stuff to throw it in your face, Eddie."</p><p>"I'd rather not."</p><p>Eddie went back to eating, and his annoyance immediately died down, replaced by an intense feeling of pleasure. Oh, how happy he was to get to spend this special time with Richie! Eddie had been right, between the restaurant, the spa, and the promise of getting to meet William Denbrough in person, Myra had mellowed out, and only fussed a bit over him when it was time for Eddie to go. He didn't forget to call her as soon as he arrived, though, not wanting to ruin her good mood.</p><p>Richie greeted him like a prince, visibly as glad as he was to share this moment with him. His friend transformed part of his living room into a big, fluffy blanket fort, rambling about the fact that he was going to make up for every pajama party Eddie never got to experience during his childhood. It was a weird move on Richie's part, but Eddie found it endearing, considering the messy pile of blankets and pillows with a tender gaze. It was very "Richie", indeed…</p><p>Myra would have reminded him how bad it could be for his back, how he needed to sleep on a proper mattress, but Eddie couldn't care at the moment. He was with Richie, his friend, his first real friend, and it mattered more than anything else and anyone else in the world. At the sight of Richie's childish initiative, Eddie felt that he was allowing himself to regress back to his younger self, the kid who was always too sick to have any fun, right until then. He wondered what kind of a child Richie used to be, and if they would have been friends at the time. </p><p>If Richie was born in Derry, just like him, if they got to meet each other years and years ago, would they have had sleepovers, like this one? Eddie liked to think it would have been the case. Then again, he wasn't sure his mother would have allowed Richie to set even a foot in her house…</p><p>"What are you thinking about, Eds?"</p><p>Eddie stopped zoning out, glancing at his friend. They were currently lying on Richie's pile of blankets, musing over the movie they could watch together. Eddie didn't realize how long he actually retreated in his thoughts, and he apologized, answering with a smile:</p><p>"I was wondering if you would have climbed the tree back at my childhood's home, to reach my bedroom's window. We could have had this kind of slumber party, I guess..."</p><p>Richie looked at him quietly for a little while, Eddie unable to interpret his facial expression, before he finally nodded, stretching his lips slightly:</p><p>"Yeah, of course. I probably would have broken tons of glasses doing this, but it wouldn't matter. Anything to reach RapunzEddie in his big, scary tower!"</p><p>Eddie groaned at the nickname and the comparison, flicking Richie on the nose and grinning at the pained whine he let out afterward. He really didn't want to think for too long about how eerily accurate it actually was, thinking back about his childhood under his mother's thumb…</p><p>"What was it like, back then? In your Mormon village?"</p><p>Richie seemed genuinely curious, dropping the joking act for a while. He was propping himself on his elbow, looking at Eddie with a serious gaze, keeping himself silent to give him space to talk if he wished to. Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, unsure. There were still things he definitely wasn't ready to talk about, but he could start with the tamer stuff…</p><p>"Hmm… How should I put it? I guess it was really lonely. I didn't have any friends, and my mom homeschooled me very early. I never set foot in a school in my whole life."</p><p>Richie grimaced at his words, fiddling with his glasses:</p><p>"I would like to say that you're lucky, because little ol' me has been bullied enough to be the main character of an old-school PSA video, but well… it does sound pretty lonely, as you just said it."</p><p>"I had my mom, and that was it. My dad died when I was around five. I don't remember much of him, but I think he was a good guy. My heart failed me when I was thirteen or so, and I spent most of my teenage years in a hospital. Myra was volunteering in one of them, and that's how I met her back then."</p><p>Richie parted his lips, remained silent for a second, before he changed his mind and kept for himself what he wanted to say. Whatever it was, Eddie wasn't sure it would have been pleasant to hear…</p><p>"My life was basically split between my mom, Myra, and the medical staff that was caring for me. I almost had a heart transplant when I was twenty-five, but the cooler they were using to transporting it broke down, and they couldn't use the organ anymore."</p><p>Richie's eyes widened at his words, and he muttered, his fingers playing nervously with one of their blankets:</p><p>"Wow, that's… I'm sorry, Eds."</p><p>"It's fine. I guess it wasn't my time. Not long after that, Myra asked me to marry her, telling me that she wanted to stay by my side until "death do us part". So, I did."</p><p>It was strange how passionless Eddie was, recounting the day he decided to officialize his relationship with Myra. It was like he had just walked on the path he was always meant to follow, a logical step in what so many people thought would be a short-lived existence. But Eddie was forty now, and he had a heart healthily beating in his chest. It had been the case for a whole year now. </p><p>Putting his hand over his chest, feeling the beating, Eddie glanced shyly at Richie, whose gaze was currently focused on Eddie's fingers. Were they thinking the same thing?</p><p>Eddie barely allowed Myra's hands to venture around his chest area, only for medical reasons. He didn't know why, but it was a step he wasn't ready to cross yet with her, something deeply personal and scary to share with anybody else. And yet… and yet…</p><p>"Would you… Would you like to listen to it?"</p><p>Eddie never felt so nervous, so vulnerable, shivering at the thought that he actually offered Richie to do such a thing. He didn't know what to expect from his friend. If he would gladly accept or if he'd feel awkward about it. But Eddie certainly didn't think that he would actually <em>cry. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm starting to get the hang of writing a shorter story than the previous series I wrote. Things are moving more quickly, if I were to follow the pace set in "Listen to me", Richie and Eddie wouldn't have had this conversation until at least the 20th chapter or so xD. I think it's moving just at the right pace for this story.</p><p>Anyway, I got to write Eddie spending time with Mike and Bill, and yay! I love writing them both so much. Also, Georgie is alive in this story. I could, so I did. As a result, I thought Bill would be a more positive person and that it would be felt through his books. He does write horror sometimes, but his field is mostly romance, and his endings don't suck xD. So, yeah, Myra is a big fan, which will allow them to spend more time together x).</p><p>Also, Eddie literally proposed the worst thing at the worst time to Richie. It's an anniversary date for Richie as well (and not a happy one), but with Eddie offering him to listen to the heart that used to belong to Steve, well... Richie couldn't hold it anymore. </p><p>The next chapter will feature Richie's meeting with the "acquaintance" I mentioned (who is it? Mystery xD) and what happened after Eddie's offer. Can't wait to write it!</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! </p><p>Welcome to the ninth chapter of this fanfic! I hope you're doing okay. I'm fine, enjoying some needed vacation days :D.<br/>I hope you'll like this chapter, I really liked writing it.</p><p>I can't think of a Trigger Warning for this chapter, but if you think I missed something, just let me know! Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richie didn’t know exactly when was the last time he saw Ben. His friend’s architecture business was always on the rise, and his investment in his projects took a lot of his time, so much that Beverly had to be the one to remind him to take a break and pull himself out of his work, from times to times. But it wasn’t just that.</p><p>Ever since he had these cruel words for Beverly, Richie hadn’t seen Ben once. Not even to scold him, as he expected him to. Richie thought it was entitled and awful of him to believe that, but he actually felt… hurt. He wondered if Ben would have come back into his life, if Richie didn’t make it up to Beverly. But he couldn’t really blame him for his silence, right? Richie had been the worst.</p><p>There was one topic they all agreed to never bring up to Beverly, and, more than mentioning it, Richie actually used it against her, when she was only trying to help. Maybe he didn’t want her help, but that didn’t mean he should allow himself to be so heartless, so brutal. And Ben… Well, Ben had always been the one most privy to Beverly’s traumas and how it affected her life. More than any of them, he knew how much Beverly’s father hurt her, and he probably worked really hard to help her out of her torment.</p><p>After all this time, Ben finally called him, asking if they could meet somewhere. Richie immediately accepted, telling his friend to meet him at his flat. To be honest, Richie wasn’t sure if he could keep a lid on his feelings, and he really didn’t want to start crying in a public setting. It happened already with Eddie, and he wasn’t proud of that fact. His emotions were a mess, ever since Steve…</p><p>Richie didn’t finish this sentence, focusing on the coffee he was preparing for Ben and himself. He warned Eddie that he wouldn’t be available for a call, but that he’d answer his texts after his meeting, if he needed to reach out to him. Richie felt a bit guilty, leaving Eddie hanging like that, but he needed to be sure that he was wholly focused on Ben. His friend deserved better than half of his attention. They had a lot to talk about…</p><p>Handing Ben his mug, Richie sat on his couch, taking a deep breath. He noticed the slight hesitation when Ben reached for a cookie, before he allowed himself to close his fingers on the biscuit, but he stayed silent on the matter. Richie was aware of Ben’s struggling with food, how much he felt guilty whenever he was eating “too much” (to his liking, anyway), and he always made sure to let him know that it was okay to eat whatever he wanted to. </p><p>In fact, he took the time to grab two cookies and ate them, even though he wasn’t really hungry, if only to reassure Ben a little. It was a silent agreement between all of them, whenever they were eating together. They didn’t bring up the subject of food, diet, or anything like that, knowing how triggering it was for Ben. On the other hand, they didn’t try to force him to eat either. They just made sure that Ben would see them eating and enjoying themselves, so that he would feel less guilty for doing the same thing.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Richie.”</p><p>Richie raised his head from his mug, gazing at Ben with a curious look. His friend seemed uneasy, squirming on his seat, nibbling on his cookie nervously. Richie shrugged, asking him, even though he already knew the answer:</p><p>“For what, dude?”</p><p>“I… uh… I wanted to come to see you. After what happened with Bev. I came here a lot, actually, but I always turned back before entering your building. It was cowardly of me, and, uh, you deserve better.”</p><p>So, Ben actually tried to visit him. The thought warmed up Richie’s heart, who wondered since then if Ben had really been ready to erase him from his life, without any hesitation.</p><p>“It’s fine. You’re here now. It’s all that matters.”</p><p>“No, Richie, it’s not fine. Don’t try to say it is.”</p><p>Ben sighed, reaching for his mug and sipping from it, looking for his words. Richie didn’t interrupt him, surprised by the assertive tone his friend just used. It wasn’t like Ben, talking this way… Among them all, he was the softest, the kindest, barely daring to raise his voice, even when he had every right to. They often helped him fight his own battles, knowing that Ben was too gentle to do so himself.</p><p>“I… I knew that it might go terribly wrong, our discussion, and I didn’t want it to. What you said to Beverly, it was truly awful, and I should have said something about that, but you’re my friend, and you’re in pain, and...”</p><p>Ben bit his bottom lip, shaking his head:</p><p>“Why is it so complicated?”</p><p>“Beat me, dude. I really wish we could all just go back to simpler times.”</p><p>Times where Steve was still there. Times where Richie didn’t hesitate to go to their bedroom, because he knew that his husband would join him at some point. Times where Richie didn’t have to wonder if he should hide the fact that Steve’s heart was keeping a man alive, and that this man was now his friend… At the moment, anyway. Richie closed his fingers tightly on his mug, keeping down the scream he wanted to let out. Yes, indeed… Why was it all so complicated?</p><p>“I think part of me thought that if I didn’t confront you, I’d just keep the best of both worlds. Bev and you. I didn’t want to risk losing you, but I would have anyway, because I abandoned you when you needed me.”</p><p>“Ben… I told you, it’s fine. I fucked up, big time, and it’s not your role to fix that. I needed to apologize to Bev, and I did it. I’m relieved she agreed to see me again, after all of that. I never should have said those things.”</p><p>“No, you shouldn’t have.”</p><p>Ben and Richie remained silent for a little while, drinking their coffee, munching on their cookies. Richie knew how much his friend wanted to talk about Steve, but didn’t dare to. Ben seemed convinced that a simple discussion would solve all of Richie’s problems, but it was wishful thinking.</p><p>Richie refused to acknowledge that Steve wasn’t there anymore, especially out loud. As long as he didn’t, it meant that Steve didn’t leave him. And, anyway, he was still around, in some way, his heart beating in Eddie’s chest… It meant something.</p><p>Ben cleared his throat, glancing at Richie awkwardly. He parted his lips a few times, before he finally managed to say, smiling clumsily while doing so:</p><p>“So, you seem to be doing better, Richie. The last time I came here, I walked among empty cans of beer, trying to reach your couch. Bev told me you met someone?”</p><p>Richie grimaced at his words. Of course, Beverly told him about Eddie. Why wouldn’t she? Maybe she hoped that Ben would be able to get more information about him than she did… Richie chased this thought away, knowing that Beverly wasn’t manipulative, that she was just trying to help, to be there for him, even if she didn’t know how to.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess. He’s a nice guy. I’m helping him a bit with his life and all, he’s pretty lonely.”</p><p>“It’s good, Richie. I’m glad you’re making new friends. Maybe he’ll be able to help you in ways we can’t...”</p><p>Ben had no idea how right he was. Stan, Bev, Patty, and he could try to be there as much as they were able to, but they couldn’t bring him what Eddie had: Steve’s presence. Thanks to Eddie, Steve was still around, even if Richie couldn’t reach out to him. If he managed to make Eddie happy, then it would mean that Steve would be as well. That was all Richie could hope for.</p><p>Feeling that they were starting to broach a dangerous topic, Richie immediately changed the subject, interrogating Ben on his new project. He felt a bit guilty, taking advantage of his friend’s passion and naivety to avoid talking about Eddie, but he didn’t have a choice. If Richie slipped up, if he let Ben know anything about the true nature of his relationship with Eddie, then it would be all over. He would tell Bev, who would reach out to Eddie and let him know what it was all about.</p><p>And she would be right, because Richie was the worst. Eddie had no idea why Richie took an interest in him in the first place. He just thought that their meeting was coincidental, that it was fate that put them on the same path and gave him what was likely the first friend in his life. </p><p>But Richie manipulated the odds. If not for Steve’s heart, they would never have met in the first place. Richie wasn’t sure they would even have interacted, if they were to see each other without this particular context.</p><p>They were opposites, in so many ways, and they should probably hate each other, if not for his husband’s heart. And yet… And yet, something clicked between them. So easily, they started to talk, banter, and laugh at each other’s quirks and jokes.</p><p>Richie wanted nothing more than to pull Eddie out of the miserable life he was currently living, and he knew that Eddie also wished to help him, in his own special way. Richie found himself waiting expectantly for their weekend to come, for all the times he got to talk to Eddie. He never liked practicing sport, but he was looking forward to their daily running session, knowing he would get to spend this time with Eddie.</p><p>He… He really enjoyed spending time with him. And he shouldn’t, because Richie was only there to help Eddie a little, to support him in his quest for independence, before letting him go. He couldn’t like Eddie the way he was. He just couldn’t.</p><p>“Richie?”</p><p>Richie didn’t realize that he started to cry, tears running down his cheeks. He pulled his glasses up, wiping his face angrily. He promised himself he wouldn’t look weak in front of Ben, and now, he was about to sob like a fucking baby! Richie shook his head, saying out loud with a closed-off tone:</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Richie, you’re not...”</p><p>“I said, I’m fine! Stop treating me like a fucking child! I’m fine! I’m fine! I’m fucking FINE!”</p><p>Richie grabbed his empty mug and threw it across the room, the sound of broken porcelain providing a short-lived relief to his anger. But soon enough, he realized what he just did, the way Ben’s shoulders hunched, his face wincing visibly… Richie let his arm fall down, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t fine at all. But he couldn’t admit it. If he did, it would be the first step to healing, to grieve his husband properly, and… and he didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Richie hid his face in his hands, shaking, trying to stop himself from crying, failing to do so. “I’m so sorry...”</p><p>Richie heard Ben cleaning his mess, but he didn’t raise up his head. He then felt his soft arms hugging him tightly, his friend’s fingers coursing through his messy hair in a gentle motion. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, Ben providing him the comfort Richie didn’t think he deserved, shushing his sobs with a kind tone, caressing his hair tenderly.</p><p>He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the flat was empty when he opened his eyes. It was already nighttime, and Ben must have left a while ago. Richie’s glasses had been put on the coffee table next to him, and his body had been covered with a blanket, keeping him warm and safe. Ben had cleaned everything Richie had pulled out for them to eat and drink, only leaving a piece of paper behind him.</p><p>Putting his glasses on, Richie grabbed the paper, his heart skipping a beat when he read the few words Ben wrote for him:</p><p>
  <em> We’re all here for you, Richie, when you’re ready to let us in. I love you. </em>
</p><p>Richie crumbled the paper in his hand, trying to fight the feelings coursing through his veins. He knew… He knew that they were here, that he just had to<em>  talk </em>, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted Steve back. He wanted his husband by his side, and he wasn’t here, and he would never be here again. </p><p>Richie let out a strangled noise. He got up from his couch, walking towards their bedroom, but he didn’t manage to open the door, his fingers shaking on the doorknob. He rested his forehead against the wood, calling out to Steve with a weak voice, as if he could answer him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Curling up on the floor, Richie reached out for his phone. He pressed it against his ear, listening to his husband’s last voicemail. Again. And again. And again.</p><p>“<em>Hey, Rich, it’s me. I hope...” </em></p><p>*</p><p>Richie didn’t understand why everything went to shit so quickly. They had such a good time until then! Eddie actually appreciated the efforts he put in to cook for him something his organism could handle and would enjoy. They had fun talking, teasing each other endlessly, and they should have just watched some stupid movie on Netflix, celebrating Eddie’s heart transplant anniversary.</p><p>It was also a special event for Richie, a full year since what happened with Steve, but he managed to keep it under wraps, focusing solely on Eddie and his happiness. It was definitely an accomplishment, a full year with a new heart.</p><p>Eddie didn’t even have to go back to the hospital, only for his scheduled exams, to make sure that everything was fine. Richie didn’t realize right away how risky it all was, how easily Eddie could have gotten an infection, that might have put his health and his heart in jeopardy. </p><p>The medications Eddie was taking were helping his body to accept this new heart, but they were also weakening his immune system, making him more susceptible to catch all kinds of illnesses. Something as simple as a cold could actually be extremely dangerous for Eddie…</p><p>But, unlike many people in Eddie’s situation, Eddie’s first year went perfectly fine. And they both hoped that it would stay that way for the many, many years to come. Eddie had every right to be proud of himself. Richie wasn’t going to ruin his celebration, because of his own problems. That’s what he was decided to do, anyway. But his feelings decided otherwise, at the second Eddie offered him to listen to his heart.</p><p>Richie should have been able to say “yes” and handle it. Or he could have just said “no” and pretended that it was a bit too weird for him. Anything would have been better than the way he suddenly started to bawl out, sobs shaking his body so violently that Richie thought he might throw up at some point.</p><p>Eddie was understandably shaken by his explosive reaction, straightening up on their pile of blankets, his hands flying to Richie’s body without daring to touch him. His voice was slightly squeaky when he managed to speak out, trying to get Richie’s attention:</p><p>“Richie? Richie, what’s going on? Come on, look at me!”</p><p>But he couldn’t. If he looked up, he would see Eddie’s face, and that’s not the face he wanted to see right now. He wanted Steve. His heart was there, so close, beating in a chest that it wasn’t supposed to belong to. He wanted his husband. Not… Not a fucking mock-up! Richie let out a scream, hitting the floor violently with his two fists, startling Eddie. But the blankets were soft, too soft, and it didn’t hurt. Richie needed it to <em>hurt </em>!</p><p>He scrawled away from Eddie, about to do the same thing on the hard ground, ready to punch until his knuckles broke, but his friend didn’t let him do so. With a strength Richie didn’t think he had, Eddie grabbed him back to him, closing his arms around Richie in a tight hug. </p><p>“Don’t! Don’t, please… I’m here. I’m here.”</p><p>Yes, Eddie was here… But he wanted Steve. He needed Steve. He should be the one there, sharing this night with him, and not… not Eddie. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Richie fought Eddie’s grip for a few seconds, before he gave up entirely, curling up on himself, a mess of unresolved emotions slipping past his control. Trying to provide him comfort, Eddie inadvertently put Richie’s head on his chest. And Richie heard <em> it. </em></p><p>He didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t think he would hear two separate heartbeats, each of them beating at their own rhythm. The shock was enough to pull him out of his hysteric sobs, silence washing over him while he found himself listening to the two heartbeats, the tears quietly running down his cheeks. After a little while, he managed to let out, voice full of disbelief:</p><p>“Two… Two hearts? You’re from Gallifrey or what?”</p><p>Eddie laughed weakly at Richie’s attempt at a joke, whispering gently to him:</p><p>“I’m not the Doctor, if that’s what you’re asking. But yeah, I still have my heart, and my donor’s as well. They’re both keeping me alive.”</p><p>Richie couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know what to say, only listening to the arrhythmic sound coming from Eddie’s chest. Steve’s heart and… and Eddie’s heart… Keeping him alive, together.</p><p>How?</p><p>“It’s called a piggyback heart transplant. The doc told me that my new heart wouldn’t be able to pump at high enough pressure, and that it would need some support. On their own, my old heart and my new one wouldn’t be enough to keep me alive. But together, they make it work.”</p><p>Richie couldn’t say a thing, only listen to those two hearts that were working together to make sure that Eddie would get to live a longer life, a life that Richie intended to be better than what he had now. Slowly, but surely, he managed to calm down, until he didn’t feel like crying anymore. Eddie stopped hugging him, and Richie did his best to ignore the part of him that wanted to stay in his friend’s arms as long as possible.</p><p>He thanked Eddie quietly, while Eddie shook his head, a trembling smile on his lips:</p><p>“It’s okay. I… I’m sorry to have upset you like that. I don’t know exactly why, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I really didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I… I’m here if you need to talk.”</p><p>And, suddenly, Richie really wanted to spill the beans. To tell Eddie how he tracked him, why he really reached out to him, how he was trying to help him, and Steve as well. More than ever, Richie wished to tell him the truth, to free himself from the weight on his shoulders. Eddie deserved better than a constant lie from him. Richie knew that. And yet…</p><p>And yet, he couldn’t get himself to talk. Richie wasn’t naive enough to think that Eddie would accept it all easily, as if he just tried to hide from him his birthday present or something else as innocuous as that. Eddie would have every right to be pissed off at him, but Richie couldn’t face this possible outcome. He couldn’t risk losing Eddie, not after all of that.</p><p>So, he merely said, avoiding Eddie’s gaze:</p><p>“It’s not you, I… Steve, my husband… What happened to him… it’s almost a year now, too.”</p><p>Eddie’s eyes widened at his words. Richie didn’t want to tell him that at first, not wanting to risk Eddie connecting it all together, but he would feel guilty lying even more to his friend. Eddie deserved better from him. He deserved better altogether.</p><p>Eddie reached for Richie’s hand, squeezing it gently. Richie bit down his lip, fighting the impulse to take it back. Eddie shouldn’t comfort him. He shouldn’t. Richie was deceiving him, in more ways than one, and his “friend” had no idea about that. But his hand… It was really comforting. And warm.</p><p>“Richie, I’m really sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’ve been selfish, I was so focused on my heart that I didn’t think for a second...”</p><p>Richie stopped him, unable to bear the idea that Eddie was feeling guilty for what he was going through. He didn’t have to. He shouldn’t have to. Eddie did nothing wrong, on the contrary. Even though Richie feared it so much, getting to listen to Steve’s heart, after all this time… It really helped. And knowing that it was supporting Eddie’s heart, keeping him alive… Richie didn’t know why, but he thought that it was incredibly comforting.</p><p>“No, Eds. You couldn’t have known that. I didn’t tell you anything about it, and you’re not psychic. As far as I know, anyway.”</p><p>Eddie chuckled at his words, while Richie kept on talking:</p><p>“I thought I could just enjoy our moment together and forget about it. But it kept building up, and I… I cracked, I guess. I didn’t want you to see that.”</p><p>“It’s alright, Richie. We’re friends. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, for the best and for the worst.”</p><p>Oh, Eddie… Why was he such a nice person? Richie didn’t deserve his kindness, his support. He had enough on his plate, without having to deal with Richie’s problems. And Richie… well, Richie had been lying to him from the start. Deceiving him, manipulating him to get what he wanted. And Eddie had no idea about that… Truly, he was the worst.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about him?”</p><p>Richie shook his head. If he started to talk about Steve, he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from Eddie any longer. And he needed him in his life, as long as possible. Managing to stretch his lips into a weak smile, Richie gazed at Eddie, telling him softly:</p><p>“We should talk about you, Eddie Spaghetti. And your future. You got through a whole year without getting sick, after your heart transplant. I think it’s time for you to plan your bucket list.”</p><p>Eddie raised an eyebrow at his words, visibly taken aback:</p><p>“My… bucket list?”</p><p>Richie nodded, his smile stretching more naturally:</p><p>“Yeah! You know, the things you want to do, now that you can.”</p><p>“Isn’t that supposed to be about the stuff you’d like to accomplish before dying?”</p><p>Richie shrugged at Eddie’s words, nudging him gently:</p><p>“We can make it whatever you want, Eds. It would be a bucket list to celebrate your new heart and all the opportunities that you get to explore, now that you’re not stuck in a hospital bed. Like the Boston marathon you want to run at, you know? It could be the first thing on top of the list.”</p><p>Richie couldn’t understand why on earth Eddie would inflict himself this suffering, but he wasn’t going to judge. Maybe he just wanted to prove to the rest of the world and himself that he could do it. Richie wasn’t sure he would have the courage to follow him on this run, but he’d be sure to be there by his sides, supporting him all along.</p><p>“So, Boston Marathon, that’s one thing. And then? Is there something you always dreamed of doing?”</p><p>Eddie didn’t answer right away. It seemed obvious that he didn’t actually allow himself to think about this stuff, not once. The idea was heartbreaking, but Richie wasn’t about to cry once again. He already sobbed enough those last few months to fill an entire well with his tears. Not anymore.</p><p>“Maybe a visit to a strip club, eh?” Richie nudged Eddie, whose face went red at his joking offer. “I bet you never went to this kind of place. Didn’t want to get a heart attack and to die with a boner and a blissful expression on your face, right?”</p><p>“What the fuck, Richie? Not everything has to revolve around sex!” Eddie huffed, more embarrassed than ever. Richie really enjoyed teasing him...</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Richie wouldn’t define himself as a pervert, but he did enjoy the sex he got to have with his husband. And, sure, they watched porn together sometimes, to get themselves in the mood. A bit more than sometimes, perhaps. But did that make him a pervert? Nah.</p><p>“It’s physical activity, after all. Good to keep your heart pumping.”</p><p>“Can we fucking stop talking about that? I can’t even get it up, for fuck’s sake!”</p><p>Eddie gasped at the words that he didn’t manage to hold back, putting his hand over his mouth. Richie knew better than to tease him right now. He should have expected it… With the tons of medications Eddie had to take every day for his hearts, he was bound to experience some side effects. And erectile dysfunction was probably one of them…</p><p>Richie didn’t mean to broach this topic, visibly sensitive for his friend. He wondered how Myra was dealing with all of that… Was she shaming him? Telling him to eat this, to take that, as if it would fix everything? Or maybe she didn’t care. Richie couldn’t tell what would be the best for Eddie.</p><p>Seeing how his friend was currently upset, avoiding to look in his direction altogether, Richie knew that it was time to change the subject. To guide him into something that would make Eddie smile again. He hated to see him like that, especially over something that wasn’t up to him. And what if he was impotent? Why should anyone care? Eddie had been fighting for his life all of those years, and he was still doing so. He had nothing to be ashamed of.</p><p>Finally, Richie managed to find the perfect idea to distract Eddie from his complex. He pulled out his phone, showing it to his friend with a wide grin:</p><p>“And what about a road trip? You could rent one of your fancy cars and drive across the United States, from one auto showroom to the other. That would be a fucking great item on your bucket list, right?”</p><p>Eddie’s face immediately lightened up at the idea, as if he instantly forgot everything about what he just admitted. Pulling out his own phone, he started to ramble about the places he’d like to see, the races they definitely should go to, the cars he’d like to rant about… Richie remained silent, only showing his approval here and there, nodding and smiling uncontrollably. Eddie looked so happy, so alive, planning a full road trip. He immediately included Richie, as if it was totally natural for him to do so.</p><p>Richie would lie if he pretended that it didn’t make him emotional in the slightest. He could actually picture himself driving Eddie all around (or sitting next to him, if they managed to convince Myra to give him back his license), listening passionately to his nerdy rambling about the latest car he got an interest in, or the race they were watching, or the showroom they were visiting. Side by side.</p><p>Richie knew he shouldn’t, but he was looking forward to it. He was looking forward to every single moment he got to spend with Eddie. Because he… Because…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Richie's still having a hard time, but he slowly opens up more and more and allowing himself to "feel" when his friends are around. At some point, maybe he'll actually manage to tell the truth to Eddie, who knows? He also needs to allow himself to grieve Steve properly, but as long as he keeps the truth from Eddie, he probably won't be able to do so.</p><p>Ben doesn't really know how to help either, but he tries, like everyone else. Richie has so many people caring about him, and wanting the best for him, but he's so focused on what he lost, it's hard for him to remember that. In the meantime, Eddie's starting to plan more of his life, now that he's more assured about his heart transplant, and he instantly includes Richie in his plans, because of course, he is.</p><p>As for Richie... Well, it's time for him to start to experience even more complicated feelings towards Eddie and Steve. Poor Richie, he really doesn't catch a break in this fanfic... Maybe in the next chapters, though?</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone, I hope you're doing okay. Sorry for the delay, I went through a rough patch, but I'm starting to get better, and writing helps me a lot with that c:. Thank you all for the support, it's such a pleasure to read your kind words. I hope you'll like the new chapter!</p><p>With that said, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for self-harm<br/>TW for infantilism<br/>TW for mention of panic attack<br/>TW for psychological abuse</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie couldn’t find sleep. He tried his best not to toss too much around, not wanting to wake up Myra and have her be all over him for the rest of the night. He was aware that it wouldn’t take a lot for her to start to worry, asking questions after questions, probing again and again, convincing him that he was sick or whatnot. No, Eddie was doing okay. Physically, at least. It was his brain that kept him awake. His fucked up brain.</p><p>He had trouble believing how much his life changed in so little time. Sure, Eddie was expecting his existence to turn around, after finally getting his heart transplant, but not like that. Not so drastically. And it all started with Richie. Eddie found himself smiling, thinking about the man. His friend. His <em>first </em>friend. As a person in his forties, there was probably something pathetic about this idea, but Eddie could only relish in the fact that he didn’t feel so lonely anymore.</p><p>It was a weird concept, given that Eddie had been doted on most of his life, first by his mother, then by Myra. The two women in his existence rarely left him alone, if ever. They were always caring, watching over him, making sure that his health wasn’t worsening. They monitored his food, his physical activity, what he should or shouldn’t do. For so long, Eddie barely allowed himself the thought that there might be something wrong with that. </p><p>But meeting Richie changed that. It changed everything. In a few months, Eddie stood up more to Myra than he ever did in a lifetime. He let himself dream about the things he thought he’d never get to do, thinking that maybe, just maybe, some of them were actually possible. That his life could be so much more than what he thought initially. </p><p>Eddie hadn’t been extremely anxious about his health in a long time. Sure, there was the occasional panic attack, but it was nowhere near what he used to experience on an almost daily basis. He could deal with it. And he didn’t have to do it on his own anymore. There was Richie. And… And Mike and Bill helped too. </p><p>Maybe that’s why he couldn’t sleep right now. Because he couldn’t stop thinking about the next day. About Mike and Bill’s invite. Eddie curled up a little at the thought, not sure if he was more excited or scared about it all. After their previous meeting, Eddie let Myra know about the fact that their neighbor Bill was none other than her favorite author, William Denbrough, and it actually didn’t take much to convince her to accept their invitation for a meal. Not if she could get an autograph from her idol, as well as the privilege to talk to him face to face.</p><p>Eddie was cringing in advance, fearing that Myra might make Bill uncomfortable, turning their nice get-together into a big event of some kind. Sure, he could understand that she was excited to meet her favorite author, but Eddie didn’t want to risk alienating him. Not after he and his husband had been so kind to him…</p><p>Could Mike and Bill be his next friends? Eddie never imagined that he would get so many. No, scratch that, he didn’t even think that having one would be possible. He figured that it might depend on their lunch the next day, and the thought got him to breathe a little louder, the anxiety creeping back up at every second. </p><p>Eddie grabbed his cellphone on the nightstand as a reflex, tightening his fingers on the tiny object. He glanced at Myra, who had turned her back on him, but she seemed to be deeply asleep. Keeping the luminosity to a low setting, Eddie typed a text quickly, sending it immediately:</p><p>
  <em> You’re sleeping? </em>
</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long it would take to get an answer, but he was pretty sure he would have one. And he wasn’t mistaken. Richie shot him back a message a few minutes later, Eddie reading it as soon as it appeared on his screen:</p><p>
  <em> Yes. Zzzzz. Mega sleeping.  </em>
</p><p>Eddie rolled his eyes at the text, but his lips still stretched into an amused smile. Nibbling on his nails, Eddie used his free hand to answer.</p><p>
  <em> How can you use your phone if you’re sleeping, dumbass? </em>
</p><p>Eddie could almost hear Richie laughing, a roaring sound that he got used to, and even loved witnessing. He’d rather have Richie being loudly happy, than to see him as desperate and sad as he saw him be, during their sleepover… Chasing the thought from his head as fast as possible, Eddie felt relieved when Richie answered him, allowing him to focus on something else:</p><p>
  <em> Some people are sleepwalking. I’m sleep-typing. That’s a talent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yeah, right. </em>
</p><p>Eddie found himself unable to decide what he wanted to say to Richie. More than everything else, he just wanted to feel him close. In the dark of the night, trapped by his insomnia, Eddie was longing for someone to comfort him. For his friend to be there. </p><p>Richie seemed to guess his current state, because he didn’t wait long before he texted him once again.</p><p>
  <em> Can’t sleep either, Eds? </em>
</p><p>It was pretty obvious that, if he was texting Richie, Eddie was awake, thank you very much. But he held back his sarcasm, feeling the concern dripping from his friend’s words. He hesitated a little, before he finally managed to tell him:</p><p>
  <em> No. I feel anxious about tomorrow. </em>
</p><p>Of course, Eddie had to tell Richie that he was invited to Mike and Bill’s flat, along with Myra. He didn’t really know how his friend would react, but he almost seemed… relieved. Maybe Eddie was misinterpreting it, but that was the first thing that came to his mind, when he recalled Richie’s reaction, his smile, and his excited demeanor. He was most likely happy that Eddie was branching out a little, when his life had only been comprised of Myra and his mother until then.</p><p>
  <em> It’s gonna be okay, Eds. Your neighbors seem nice. And if they’re not, you’ll give them the middle finger and call me, and I’ll pick you up, in my Ford Mustang. Sweeping you up in my arms and all, Cindereddie. </em>
</p><p>Eddie hadn’t been able to stop himself from snorting out loud. He clasped his free hand over his mouth, while he could hear Myra moving. He remained still for a while, fearing that she might wake up, but she didn’t stir up. Sighing with relief, Eddie cast aside the thought that there was probably something wrong with him being so anxious about his wife’s reaction, focusing on Richie instead:</p><p>
  <em> Fuck off, Richie, I’m not a damsel in distress! And I certainly won’t let you drive me away in your pretentious car! </em>
</p><p>Eddie had learned to appreciate their banter. Richie and him bickered every now and then, about pretty much everything they could think of, but they also made sure to not cross <em> the  </em>line. And when they did, they apologized and talked about it. It was so different from his relationship with Myra. Eddie wasn’t scared at the prospect of a discussion with Richie, as he could sometimes be with his wife (more than often, if he were to be honest about it). And he knew that his friend wouldn’t shut him down because he disagreed with what Eddie had to say. It was… It was actually really nice. And freeing.</p><p>
  <em> Alright, no pretentious car. Still, you can count on me if needed, Eddie Spaghetti.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t call me like that! </em>
</p><p>Eddie bit his bottom lip, unsure about what he should do next. Richie wasn’t sleeping either, and he was pretty sure it was a reoccurring instance. Would he be open to talking about it? Was he waiting for Eddie to probe a little? It was a delicate situation, and Eddie wasn’t ready or armed for that. Still, he knew he couldn’t just let it go. Richie rarely talked about his own life, and Eddie wasn’t sure he had many people he could confide in either.</p><p>
  <em> Why can’t you sleep? You want to talk about it? </em>
</p><p>Eddie let him a clear out, if Richie wasn’t ready to confide in him. He wasn’t stupid, and had a pretty good idea <em> why </em> Richie wasn’t sleeping. The night they spent together, as soon as he was sleeping, Richie closed his arms around Eddie, tightly, and Eddie didn’t move, not even when he heard him mumbling his husband’s name. Eddie couldn’t imagine what it might do to someone, such a loss, but if he had been able to bring some relief to Richie that night, then it was for the best.</p><p>They didn’t talk about it the next day. Eddie wasn’t even sure Richie realized how close he kept him to his body for most of the night. Eddie rarely slept in his wife’s arms, and her hugs, as well as his mother’s, tended to feel smothering and awkward, but he felt good, getting hugged by Richie. Safe.</p><p>His friend finally answered him, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts.</p><p>
  <em> There’s not much to say. I feel lonely. </em>
</p><p>Eddie grimaced. He was familiar with the feeling, especially in the dark of the night. He remembered hours spent looking at the ceiling, wondering if it would be the last thing he saw, if he would die in his sleep. Even if Eddie was still pretty much an insomniac, he didn’t have those thoughts so often anymore…</p><p>
  <em> I feel lonely too.  </em>
</p><p>Eddie didn’t know why he felt the need to send that to Richie. But it was the truth, and he felt compelled to be frank with his friend. Just like he was to him, his text hurting him in a way Eddie couldn’t quite explain:</p><p>
  <em> You have your wife. </em>
</p><p>Sometimes, Eddie hated texts. He couldn’t guess Richie’s tone, if he was bitter, angry, or if he was just stating the facts. Yes, Eddie had Myra. He always had her. And yet, he felt deeply alone, longing every night for the morning, because he’d get to spend time with Richie. Because they would run, talk, and have fun. Together. He couldn’t do any of those things with Myra. Sure, he could speak to her, but… but was there really a dialogue, or were they merely rehearsing some kind of boring play that had been written for them years ago?</p><p>Eddie decided to be cautious and to apologize, showing Richie that he cared about his feelings and didn’t want to upset him:</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry. I was insensitive. </em>
</p><p>Richie’s answer came immediately, as if he feared that Eddie might start to get anxious over his reaction and spiral uncontrollably:</p><p>
  <em> Don’t apologize, Eds. It’s just… I don’t know. Myra makes you feel lonely? </em>
</p><p>Yes. So, so much. Eddie gasped when the thought crossed his mind, his heart skipping a beat. A part of him wanted to admit that to Richie, to confide into him even more than he did before, but another part of him was louder, stronger, and Eddie felt like the biggest coward, while he was typing quickly:</p><p>
  <em> I’m getting sleepy. Good night, Richie. </em>
</p><p>Ashamed and disappointed by his own attitude, Eddie put back his phone on the nightstand, biting furiously on his fingernails. He tried to get himself to grab his cellphone back, to allow Richie to share his complicated feelings if he felt confident enough to do so, but Eddie was paralyzed, unable to move. Just like with Mike and Bill, he was running from what he should admit. What was so blatant, but that he couldn’t accept yet.</p><p>Myra… Myra was making him feel lonely. Small. Vulnerable. She caused him to worry about pretty much everything, his health, his future, his past, his present, who he was, and who he should become. She had no answer, but only endless questions, concerns, interrogations. And yet, Eddie needed her. He needed her, as he had needed his mother before her. She took care of him, made sure that he was medicated correctly, knew before him when he wasn’t feeling good, and she knew what was right and wrong for him. He… He needed her…</p><p>*</p><p>Eddie jumped when, as soon as Mike closed the door on them, Myra literally squealed, getting uncomfortably close to Bill in the process. Tightening his grip on her hand, Eddie pulled her back as gently as he could, apologizing quietly to his neighbor. William smiled awkwardly, but Eddie could clearly see how uneasy he felt, and he cringed, whispering to his wife:</p><p>“Please, calm down, Myra, he’s going to throw us out if...”</p><p>“Eddie! Why are you talking like I don’t know how to behave?”</p><p>She was definitely upset, and Eddie couldn’t help but squirm, apologizing under his breath. If Mike and Bill noticed it all, they didn’t address Eddie’s meek behavior and Myra’s controlling attitude, changing the topic instead. While William signed the book that Myra handed him, Mike guided Eddie to the kitchen, a gentle expression on his face.</p><p>He started to detail the ingredients in Bill’s ratatouille, but Eddie stopped him before, letting out a resigned sigh:</p><p>“We can do that later. Myra will want to know about it too. No need to repeat yourself.”</p><p>Mike glanced at Myra, who was hugging her book like her most treasured possession, before he focused back on Eddie, asking with a hint of concern in his voice:</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>No, he wasn’t. Myra promised him that she would tone down her fan attitude, and she very much didn’t. Eddie was embarrassed, but, more than that, he was afraid that it might definitely put off Bill and Mike. If they didn’t want to see him again, if they didn’t want him as a friend, he would be devastated. Taking a deep breath, Eddie forced a smile on his lips, answering in an awkward tone:</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, it’s just… I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s alright.” Mike shrugged, adjusting the plates on the dinner table. “I’m used to it now. My husband is famous, what can you do about it? And she obviously loves his books.”</p><p>“She does, yes. It’s just…”</p><p>He told her to behave. To act with Bill as if he was only her neighbor and not a famous author. And she didn’t. Eddie jumped a little when he felt Mike’s hand on his shoulder, raising his gaze towards him:</p><p>“I told you, it’s fine. She’s going to get used to it. Bill’s one of her favorite authors, of course, she’s going to get excited about it. All good.”</p><p>Eddie wasn’t sure if Mike was merely trying to reassure him or if he was really sincere. Was he too harsh with Myra? Ever since he started to look back at their interactions with a more critical gaze, Eddie couldn’t tell when he saw things as they were, and when he was disproportionately hard with her. He didn’t know how to make the difference between those two perceptions, and, to be honest, it fucked him up quite a lot.</p><p>Forcing himself to think about something else, he dazedly followed Mike to the living room, sitting next to Myra. At first, he reflexively crossed his arms, in a stance he was used to, but as soon as he noticed Bill grabbing Mike’s hands, Eddie felt compelled to do the same, hesitantly looking for Myra’s fingers. She happily let him do so, until she got tired of waiting for him to finish his move, and decided to “help” him. Her hand tightening on his didn’t feel comforting. Eddie wanted to take it back, <em>now. </em></p><p>Instead, Eddie forced himself to remain still, trying to stay calm. Bill pulled out some bottles for them to drink, asking Eddie for confirmation:</p><p>“Can you d-drink alcohol? It’s okay if you don’t.”</p><p>Eddie parted his lips, but Myra answered in his stead, always eager to talk about his health:</p><p>“Oh, no, Eddie bear absolutely cannot handle alcohol! The last time he drank, he ended up in the hospital, and it took months for him to recover. Do you have some fruit juice? It has to be organic.”</p><p>“Uh… Sure.”</p><p>Mike seemed baffled, just as much as Bill, and Eddie folded in on himself, wishing that he could disappear and never come back. Myra’s grip tightened on his hand. He should say something. He had to say something, he… he… He couldn’t. Myra was right, he couldn’t handle alcohol. She was only doing what was best for him, right? Maybe Eddie would have felt pressured to accept a glass, when it was clearly dangerous for his heart, for both of his hearts.</p><p>But, still… She didn’t have to talk about his hospitalization, right? Eddie didn’t want to have to discuss his health if he could avoid it. There were plenty of subjects he’d like to talk about, whether it was about his neighbors’ life, Bill’s brother, or their hobbies. He wanted to know more about them, not… not have them pity him, as if he was nothing more than his health condition. Eddie suddenly felt compelled to grab his phone and call Richie for help, but he stopped himself from doing so. It was going to be okay. Mike and Bill were kind and understanding. He just had to… to stand up for himself, when needed. Why was it so hard to do?</p><p>Mike was quick to pour them their drinks, speaking up before Myra had any chance to say something else:</p><p>“So, Eddie, you’re working remotely, right? Bill’s doing the same. We have a room specifically for him to write.”</p><p>“It… It really helps to keep me inspired and m-motivated. That and Mike’s support, of course.”</p><p>The smile on their lips was priceless to see. Eddie couldn’t help but think that he didn’t remember having such an expression on his face when he talked about Myra. He started to answer, feeling confident now that he could talk about his work:</p><p>“Yes, I’m a risk analyst for Hagarty Finance. I know it sounds like a bore, but it’s actually really interesting, I...”</p><p>Eddie found himself carried away, talking, talking, and talking, not leaving any room for Myra to say a word. When he realized that he had pretty much monologized for the last five minutes, Eddie quickly apologized, the familiar anxiety invading him at Myra’s dismissing head shake, as well as her condescending voice:</p><p>“I told you already, you’re too invested in your work, and it’s not a good thing. It might kill you someday.”</p><p>The silent atmosphere was heavy and unbearable. Eddie knew he should say something, but he couldn’t. He… He wasn’t brave. He was a coward, a fucking coward, and he… he needed Myra. Just like he needed his Mommy, all those years before… Eddie found himself struggling to breathe at this thought, hiding his discomfort in a fake cough. Myra rubbed his back, shushing him softly:</p><p>“Eddie bear, are you okay? Should we come home?”</p><p>No, no, no, he didn’t want to come back to their flat so quickly! Eddie shook his head, trying to get a handle on his anxiety, so that none of them would even start to guess what he was thinking about:</p><p>“I’m… I’m fine, Myra, I swear. I drank too quickly, that’s all.”</p><p>His glass was nowhere near his lips when he started to cough, but Myra didn’t seem to notice it. She scolded him for his carelessness, and Eddie accepted the criticism, hoping that they would talk about something else, anything, quite soon. Fortunately for him, Mike seemed to take the hint, gazing lovingly at Bill, before telling them:</p><p>“Bill’s income could be enough for us both, but I actually like my job too. It’s a pleasure when you actually want to get up in the morning for the day yet to come, right?”</p><p>Eddie could only nod at Mike’s question. He was right, of course. Now that he met Richie, Eddie was looking forward to the mornings they spent together. Heck, he actually had an excellent running session with him previously, and Richie had been quite energetic, making Eddie laugh and snort every second or so. He knew that his friend had been trying to get him to forget about the meal to come and his stress a little, and he actually succeeded. Eddie wasn’t so anxious anymore when he went back to his flat. Well, until he talked to Myra, anyway…</p><p>“And what’s your job?”</p><p>Mike chuckled at Eddie’s question, sipping on his glass, before answering with an amused smile:</p><p>“I’m a librarian. Bill and I are the nerdiest couple you can find in this city. He writes his books, and I make sure to buy them and promote the hell out of them. My colleagues hate me whenever Bill releases one of his books.”</p><p>“I cuh-can understand them. I had to stop you from puh-putting a life-sized cardboard cutout of me in your workpuh-place.”</p><p>Mike rolled his eyes playfully, while Eddie found himself snorting at the very idea. He could imagine Bill’s head when he discovered this “surprise”, at his partner’s library…</p><p>“That was a very sexy cutout, Bill. You were wrong to ask me to take it out.”</p><p>“It was c-creepy. I could have stood right next to it, and people w-would have talked to this thing instead of me.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have appreciated it.”</p><p>Bill shrugged. He pretended to be upset, but it was definitely noticeable that he wasn’t, looking fondly at his partner. Eddie suddenly found himself thinking about Richie, and their endless banter…</p><p>Myra suddenly cleared her throat, and Eddie realized that she didn’t say a thing since she last intervened. She didn’t seem at her ease, clutching to her husband’s hand as if it was her lifeline. Eddie realized that it was the first time in many years that Myra was actually spending time with someone that wasn’t him, in a setting that wasn’t related to his health. And she had no idea how to handle it…</p><p>“We… um… Do you need help in the kitchen, Mike?”</p><p>Mike glanced at Eddie, then Bill, before letting her know with a smile:</p><p>“Probably, yes. But stay seated, you probably have tons of things to ask Bill. Who knows, he might reveal you some details about his next book...”</p><p>Myra’s uneasiness disappeared immediately, while Eddie noticed the look of betrayal in Bill’s eyes. Mike smiled apologetically, guiding Eddie back to the kitchen. They were far enough not to be heard, and, moving a few things around to keep himself busy, Mike told Eddie, with a low voice:</p><p>“Everything’s pretty much ready, but I needed an excuse to get away.”</p><p>He glanced at Bill, who seemed to want to be anywhere, but where he was at the moment, while Myra was assaulting him with every question she could think of. Mike grimaced, mumbling to himself:</p><p>“I’ll definitely have to make it up to him. Sorry, Bill.”</p><p>Eddie didn’t like where this was going. He wanted to help Mike, and make small, meaningless talk, and not see the concern on his face, not hear the gentleness in his voice, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter:</p><p>“Eddie, I… I think you should talk to someone. And if it’s me, then I’m all ears. Bill’s there too, if needed, and...”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>The answer came out automatically, as if it had been too rehearsed. Eddie was used to this little sentence. I’m fine, he said, as he was scared to die. I’m fine, he said again, as he couldn’t get it up during his wedding night with Myra. I’m fine, he said endlessly, while he was fighting an impending panic attack. I’m fine. Eddie wasn’t fine. And he knew it. And Mike too. But… But…</p><p>“Eddie, I know it’s not my business, that we barely know each other, but… I just want to make sure that you’re aware that you can talk to us, right? Whenever needed.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Why, indeed? They only exchanged pleasantries when they saw each other, aside from the time Bill surprised him while he was experiencing a full-blown anxiety episode. And even then, Eddie fell asleep on their couch, barely interacting with them. Were they pitying him? Were they trying to be Good Samaritans or something? The thought upset him so much that Eddie was about to snap, when Mike finally answered, as if it was completely obvious:</p><p>“Because you’re a friend, Eddie.”</p><p>Eddie froze, his lips parted in an almost comical expression. He didn’t expect to hear that. He thought that Mike and Bill’s affection was conditional, that he’d have to be a good guest, to allow them to have a good time, to earn their friendship. But they… they already appreciated him. They already considered him a friend. Oh… Oh, fuck… Eddie wanted to cry, right now.</p><p>“Mike, you’re done?”</p><p>Eddie could hear the despair in Bill’s voice, and Mike let him know that it was ready. Eddie excused himself quickly before they sat at the dinner table, running to the bathroom and curling up on the toilet seat. He hugged himself tightly, trying to fight back the tears that were trying to come out. How pathetic was he? A forty years old crying because someone told him that he was a friend… It was laughable. Ridiculous. </p><p>Eddie was split between happiness and shame, and he had no idea how to handle that. He wanted to scream, and he knew that he shouldn’t. They would definitely hear him. Instead, he dug his fingernails in the palm of his hands, as if he often did whenever he was spending time with his mom. The pain was an unhealthy relief, the kind of relief he knew he shouldn’t seek, but Eddie couldn’t help it. He was fucked up. He was beyond fucked up.</p><p>Washing his face, Eddie came back to the room with a fake smile plastered on his lips, his facial expression getting even more stilted when he noticed that Myra had taken over and was blabbering about his health, making sure that Bill’s ratatouille wasn’t going to give him a heart attack. When she started to mention how a seemingly healthy dish made him intolerably sick, going into details that certainly shouldn’t be mentioned at a dinner table, Eddie shut down, keeping his gaze lowered, allowing Myra to share the most private and intimate details about his life.</p><p>Bill’s ratatouille was probably delicious, but it only tasted like cardboard to him, at the moment… He was eating mindlessly, not paying attention to anything, anyone. Why would it matter anyway? If Mike and Bill thought of him as a friend, it would definitely change now, given how Myra was shamelessly describing him… What a gruesome, pitiful, loathsome, laughable person his wife was making him out to be. Maybe Eddie wasn't much more than that, in the end… </p><p>His left hand reached for his phone, under the table, in an almost subconscious move. He typed four letters, sending them to the person he needed the most at the moment:</p><p>
  <em> Help </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eddie's starting to realize how bad his relationship with Myra is, but he's not ready to accept it. Richie and he are so similar in that way, just one step away from being able to move on and find the courage to change their life, get better. Eddie thinks he needs Myra's abuse, just like he thinks he needed his mother's, and it's not going to be easy to get out of this mindset. But he does know it's not normal, and, this time, he's actually asking for help. We just have to see how Richie will be able to help x).</p><p>I'm so happy to be back and to write this story again. I miss those characters, and I miss interacting with y'all c:. I hope you appreciated it as well. </p><p>Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay. I'm tired, I had some bad moments, but I'm starting to doing better. Hoping it will last! Sorry for the late posting, I was busy with some stuff, notably a gift fanfic for Valentine's day (I almost finished it, and I should start posting it during the week. Still Reddie, of course ;) ). Thank you for your patience and your support.<br/>I hope you'll like this new chapter! Here are the Trigger Warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for mention of emotional abuse<br/>TW for panic attack</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richie stared at his phone for a little while, musing over the message he just received. He was currently sitting on his couch, not doing much of his day, besides watching TV. At least, he wasn’t surrounded by mess and filth, but he still couldn’t get himself to do much. Not without Eddie to motivate him… But Eddie wasn’t there. Eddie was living his own life, making friends, having fun. It was for the best.</p><p>Richie nibbled on his fingernail, reading the words on his screen again. A message from Beverly.</p><p>
  <em> Hi, Richie, I hope you’re doing okay. There’s a place I’d like you to see tomorrow. Can I pick you up? </em>
</p><p>She didn’t say where. And he doubted she would answer, if he asked her. Beverly was usually straight to the point, never mincing her words. If she didn’t want to tell him where she wanted to take him, there was a reason for it. A reason Richie wasn’t sure he’d like… He sighed, closing his eyes for a short time. What should he do?</p><p>A part of him wanted to say “no”, aware that Beverly did tell that she intended to help him, whether he wished it or not. Whatever she planned for him, Richie doubted that he would appreciate it. And yet… And yet, he was also tempted to agree to this outing. Richie didn’t realize it fully until then, but he missed his friends. He missed them terribly.</p><p>Bev, Ben, Stan, Patty… They were such an important part of his life, for years. They saw each other so often, they were practically attached at the hip. Since Steve… Well, since <em>it </em>happened, Richie cut them off, knowing that they wanted him to move on, to grieve his husband, and leave him behind. And he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to Steve. It was easier to push them away, to wallow in his despair, and let the depression swallow him whole. He thought so, at first.</p><p>But they weren’t here, and, God, he wanted them to be. He wanted to see Stan rolling his eyes at his terrible jokes. He wanted to witness Ben’s blush whenever he was being raunchy, knowing how embarrassed his friend could be. He missed Patty’s spirit and how she was able to match him whenever they were bantering. And Bev… He missed her too. Her fiery attitude, her strength, her loyalty…</p><p>Richie had been so close to losing them all, after all the shit they accepted from him. He hurt Beverly, and he did the same to Stan, in the hopes that they would leave him alone. That they would stop helping. But Richie didn’t really want that, actually. And they knew it well. So, no, Richie couldn’t just refuse Beverly’s offer, as he did again, and again, until then. There were only so many times they’d keep trying to reach out to him…</p><p>Richie bit his bottom lip, before he finally sent a short text, not in the mood to be more chatty:</p><p>
  <em> Alright. See you tomorrow. </em>
</p><p>Putting his phone on the coffee table, Richie curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow. He wondered if Eddie was doing okay. He and his wife rarely left the safety of their home, even less to mingle with practically strangers. From what Eddie told him, the neighbors seemed to be nice, definitely a good fit for a potential friendship. Eddie could use that. A <em>real </em>relationship. Something that wasn’t a lie.</p><p>The more he spent time with Eddie, the less Richie was comfortable with the secret he was keeping from him. Eddie had no idea that his new heart, the one that helped him to stay alive, was Steve’s. He didn’t know that Richie tracked him down, and decided to meet him only because it allowed him to be close to his husband again. To give some sense to his pathetic life. No, even worse. To decide if Eddie was worthy of this second chance…</p><p>Richie groaned, tightening his grip on the pillow. He was buried too deep. Eddie would definitely hate him, if Richie told him the truth, and he… he couldn’t accept that idea. He tried to convince himself that it was only because he needed Steve in his life, but a tiny voice in his head whispered to him that he would miss <em> Eddie.  </em>Their running sessions. Their conversations. Their endless bantering.</p><p>Richie promised himself that he would keep his distances, but he didn’t. Instead, he… he really started to appreciate Eddie’s presence in his life. And he didn’t want it to end, even if Eddie was making new friends, even if he would be happier, without the fucker that Richie was in his life. Eddie was… He was special. And Richie didn’t want to leave him behind. Even though he knew he should, at some point. Richie sighed, saying out loud:</p><p>“You’re so fucked up, dude.”</p><p>He was pretty sure that his friends would tell him the same, if they knew how Eddie became such an important part of his daily life. And they’d make sure that Eddie was aware of the truth. Richie felt stuck, and he didn’t know how to pull himself out of this mess. Not without losing everything. Not without losing <em>Eddie.  </em></p><p>Before he had the time to muse any longer on the unbearable ache that this idea represented, his phone vibrated. Richie grabbed it, thinking that it might be Beverly, but the single word that had been sent was enough for him to forget shortly how to breathe.</p><p>
  <em> Help </em>
</p><p>Help. Eddie just sent him that, out of nowhere. Heart beating fast, anxiety rising, Richie didn’t think, he simply acted, calling back the number, praying that Eddie would answer. That he would be okay. To his relief, Eddie answered, his voice shaky, audibly having trouble to pull the words out.</p><p>“Eds, you’re okay? What’s going on?”</p><p>“H… Hi, Adrian. Uh...”</p><p>Adrian? What the fuck was he talking about? Richie started to ask him so, but Eddie quickly made his intentions clear, still using that worrying tone.</p><p>“W… Work emergency, you say? I don’t know, I...”</p><p>Eddie wasn’t alone, and he needed an out. And Richie would provide him one, as soon as he could.</p><p>“Okay, I got you. I’ll be at your flat in five.”</p><p>If Richie had to break every driving law in the fucking state for it to happen, then so be it. Eddie needed him.</p><p>“Fine. I’ll be on my computer in no time. It’s… It’s the last time, Adrian.”</p><p>Eddie didn’t sound annoyed, as much as he tried to. No, he was definitely apologetic. Sorry that he had to “bother” Richie. Sorry to call him for help. Richie took a deep breath, letting him know with a gentle tone:</p><p>“It doesn’t have to be, Eds. It’s alright.”</p><p>He had every right to ask for help. He deserved all the support he could get. Eddie went through so much shit in his life… If Richie could bring some relief, he would do so. He would be there for him. As long as Eddie wanted him to be. He called Richie for help. And Richie would be there.</p><p>Eddie hung up, without saying another word, and Richie stood up quickly, too quickly, getting slightly dizzy in the process. Richie shook his head, chasing away the feeling. Eddie needed him. It was the only thought in his mind, a repeating idea that kept swirling, again and again. Eddie needed him.</p><p>*</p><p>Eddie ushered Richie into his apartment when he knocked at the door, glancing behind him. Richie could clearly see how tense he was, slightly twitchy, trails of tear barely washed off and still quite visible. Richie parted his lips to say something, anything, but Eddie interrupted him before he did so, the words slipping out of his mouth quickly and carelessly:</p><p>“You called me. With your phone.”</p><p>Richie froze, as soon as the realization hit him, as the truth dawned on him, so simply strung into a sentence. Richie called Eddie. With his phone. The phone he couldn’t get himself to use since Steve… And yet, he did. He did as soon as he got Eddie’s text. He didn’t run to the phone booth to call him. He just took his cellphone and reached out to him. As if it was nothing.</p><p>But Richie didn’t have the time to ponder the idea, not when Eddie was visibly freaking out. He kept walking back and forth, his hands chopping the air nervously, while he rambled, without making much sense:</p><p>“I shouldn’t have called you, I could handle it, it’s just Myra being Myra. Bill and Mike will never be able to make eye contact with me ever again, but that’s fine, I’m fine, fucking fine, I...”</p><p>Richie wasn’t sure he would remember to inhale on his own. He took the responsibility to stop Eddie, putting his hands over his shoulders, squeezing them firmly:</p><p>“Eds, breathe. Just breathe. With me, okay?”</p><p>Eddie stopped his panicked rambling, wheezing despite himself. He was shaking, his teary eyes silently begging for help, for relief. Richie had no idea what happened, but right now, his priority was to calm down Eddie. If only a little. Eddie nodded, and Richie started to breathe loudly and exaggeratedly, so that his friend would be able to imitate him. It took a little while, but Eddie managed to get a hold of his breathing again, to Richie’s relief.</p><p>“I… uh… We should go into my office. In case… In case Myra comes back.”</p><p>Richie tensed for a second, when Eddie grabbed his hand without much thought, leading him where he wanted to go. He managed to relax afterward, letting himself experience the warm feeling that came with this soft sensation. After so much time spent on his own, Richie was probably touch starved, missing the feeling of his husband’s fingers on his skin… That had to be the explanation, right?</p><p>Before he had the time to worry, Eddie closed the door behind them, groaning audibly, agitating his leg anxiously:</p><p>“You must have been so worried. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I… It’s nothing.”</p><p>“It’s not, Eds.”</p><p>Whatever happened, it was important, because it visibly shook Eddie to his core, the poor man barely able to keep standing up on his shaky legs. Richie was definitely sure that it wasn’t “nothing”, and, whatever it was, Eddie needed to talk. And Richie was there for that.</p><p>“You were with your neighbors, right? I brought the shovel, and I’m ready to start digging, pal, if you think they deserve it.”</p><p>Richie had used his “howdy partner” voice, hoping to get a laugh out of Eddie. His smile and his snort were already something… Eddie shook his head, hiding his face in his hands for a second:</p><p>“No, no, no, they’re… They have been really nice. It’s me, I...”</p><p>Eddie bit his bottom lip, so fiercely that Richie started to worry that it might draw blood. Then, he began to laugh, and Richie’s anxiety only worsened. Eddie didn’t seem to be in a right state of mind, far from it…</p><p>“Myra was just… just being Myra. Talking about my explosive episodes of diarrhea during our fucking dinner! But that’s fine, right? It’s not like it’s anything private or humiliating! No, no, no, it’s just… it’s just…”</p><p>Richie didn’t know what to say. He was tempted to chuckle nervously, but knew better than to let himself do so. Eddie would probably think that he was mocking him. He wasn’t. It was just… It was just so absurd. This whole situation. Myra’s behavior. Eddie’s shaky retelling of his meal with his neighbors. Richie didn’t know what to make of it. He just knew that if Myra was there, in front of him, he would definitely have a few choice words for her…</p><p>Eddie laughed again, a laugh that was closer to a sob than anything else. His voice broke, while he whispered, eyes downcast:</p><p>“I… I wanted to forget… for once. I… I wanted to have fun.”</p><p>Richie couldn’t take it anymore. He brought Eddie close to him, hugging him tightly, shushing him gently when he started to cry openly, his hands gripping Richie’s shirt as if it was his lifeline. Eddie had been so happy to announce that he had been invited by his neighbors, his potential new friends. Even though a small part of Richie ached at this idea, he forced himself to smile back then, knowing that it was for the best. That Eddie deserved true, good friends.</p><p>He shouldn’t be there, sobbing over what he saw as a missed opportunity. Eddie should be talking to Mike and Bill, enjoying the time they spent together, getting to know them better. Instead, he was with Richie. The liar. The fucking liar. Richie sighed, caressing Eddie’s hair cautiously, not sure if he was allowed a gesture so intimate.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Eds. I’m really sorry that things turned out that way. But it’s not over, alright?”</p><p>Richie smiled, wiping Eddie’s tears with his thumb, looking at him in the eyes. His swollen, red eyes… God, if only Richie could take his pain away…</p><p>“I’m sure they’ll understand that Myra is...”</p><p>Richie had tons of words he wanted to use to designate Myra, but he held himself back, feeling that Eddie wasn’t ready yet to have this discussion about his wife. Especially not in his current, fragile state of mind.</p><p>“Well… Myra. Eds, it’s not the end, okay? You’ll try again later. Without her.”</p><p>“I can’t, I can’t, I...”</p><p>Richie wasn’t sure if Eddie was talking about seeing Mike and Bill again, or spending time without his wife. But one thing was obvious, and it was that Eddie needed some time out. Away from his flat. Away from his wife. Away from everything that usually constituted his life.</p><p>“Yes, you can, Eddie. Listen, we’re gonna go to my apartment. You’re going to take a nice bath, and then, we’re going to watch Cars together, alright?”</p><p>A nervous laugh, followed by a hiccup, escaped Eddie’s tight throat. It took him a few tries to manage to ask:</p><p>“Cars? The cartoon? Why?”</p><p>Richie shrugged. It was the first thing that came to his mind, when he tried to think of something that would distract him for a while, if only a little:</p><p>“I don’t know, I think the inaccuracies will make you so angry, you won’t have the time to think about anything else. You could ramble about pretty much every car featured in the movie, and I’ll listen to you. Sounds cool?”</p><p>Eddie exhaled shakily, pondering on the idea. He finally nodded, sniffling and wiping his cheeks:</p><p>“I… it’s true that I don’t get why they put the eyes on the cars’ windshield. They have fucking headlights, it would make so much more sense. I…”</p><p>Eddie avoided Richie’s gaze, looking at the door and mumbling shyly, visibly ashamed of what he was about to say:</p><p>“I need to ask her permission first.”</p><p>And there it was. The core of Eddie’s problems. This obligation that he felt to refer to Myra every time he wanted to do something that didn’t include her. As if he couldn’t do a thing without her explicit approval. Richie had trouble believing that the strong Eds that he spent so much time with, and this meek Eddie were both the same person. Eddie was so different, around Myra…</p><p>Maybe Richie should have been softer. He didn’t know. He just knew that he couldn’t take it anymore, and that Eddie needed to realize it all. To acknowledge that he deserved more than what he was putting up with.</p><p>“No, you don’t. You’re not a fucking child, Eds.”</p><p>Eddie visibly winced at his words. Sensitive topic, definitely. Not that it surprised Richie, not in the slightest. He had witnessed the control that Myra had over him. How much he relied on her, as if he couldn’t go through life without his wife by his sides. But she wasn’t the one who survived years with a faulty heart. Eddie’s strength didn’t come from her. It never did.</p><p>“She’s your wife, not your warden, not your parent. She has no right to keep you from doing what you want. So, if you want to come with me, fuck her.”</p><p>Eddie squirmed, his eyes wandering towards his office’s door, as if he feared that Myra might be right there, listening to them. It would be such a Myra thing to do… Eddie parted his lips, closed them, opened them again. Richie waited patiently, knowing how important it was for Eddie to make this decision. Whatever it would turn out to be.</p><p>“I… uh… I’m gonna leave a note.”</p><p>Richie allowed himself a relieved smile, waiting on Eddie to grab a paper and a pen, letting his wife know where he was. Better than nothing, he supposed. But Richie doubted Eddie would dare to go with him if Myra were to come back, so he hurried him as gently as he could, barely taking the time to grab some stuff with him. Richie didn’t read the note, but Eddie apparently decided that he would spend more than just a few hours with him, given the set of clothes he quickly got from his cupboard.</p><p>Richie wasn’t going to complain about it, far from it. His flat was always so empty, Eddie made it feel more… more like home. While they were going to Richie’s car, Eddie kept looking behind him, probably scared that Myra would notice him, that she would call him back. Richie would like to believe in Eddie’s will, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he would probably run right back to her if she were to call him…</p><p>Richie didn’t make a comment when he noticed Eddie turning off his phone, waiting to see if he wanted to discuss it rather than forcing the topic on him. But Eddie remained silent, eyes glued to the window by his side, and Richie turned on the engine, hoping that the tense and sorrowful atmosphere would break soon. He didn’t know what to say, what to do… And he still felt like the worst, knowing how much Eddie trusted him, when Richie had only been lying to him since the beginning of their relationship.</p><p>Richie attempted to break the silence, asking with a cheeky expression on his face:</p><p>"So... Who's that Adrian? Should I be jealous, Eds?"</p><p>Eddie rolled his eyes, mumbling that he was one of his coworkers and that it was the first name that popped in his mind. Richie chuckled, hoping that it would launch him into a discussion, about his work or something, but it didn't last.</p><p>Eddie tried to say something a few times afterward, parting his lips, letting out a tiny sound, but he stopped himself, despite Richie’s supportive smile and his encouraging words. It hurt to see him like that… Richie could only hope that it would be temporary. Eddie was going through something he couldn’t even start to imagine, and if he managed to convince himself to leave, then he was probably beginning to realize that he shouldn’t have to handle all of that anymore… He never should have, in the first place.</p><p>When they arrived, Richie guided Eddie to the bathroom, insisting that he could take a bath if he felt like it (and to make it as bubbly as he wished it to be). It was pretty clear that Eddie felt awkward about it, but he didn’t have to be. He had a stressful time, he should relax… That’s what Richie did, notably when he had a bad casting call and needed to unwind a little. Steve usually joined him, and…</p><p>Richie bit his bottom lip, chasing the thought, and kept himself busy while Eddie was in the bathroom. He glanced at his fridge and his cupboards’ content, making sure that he had food suited for his friend’s needs. Of course, he had. He always made sure to have those, even when he didn’t plan to see Eddie outside of their running sessions. Just in case. It was a bit disconcerting, how Eddie inserted himself into every aspect of his life, even the smallest ones… Richie didn’t know what to think about it.</p><p>He was starting to think about their dinner, wondering what to cook for Eddie, when someone knocked at the door. Richie raised an eyebrow, confused, then suspicious. If it was Myra, then he’d gladly open the door only to slam it in her face. Eddie set his boundaries clearly, she better had to respect it all, or Richie would make her regret it. He checked through his entrance door’s peephole, and was quite surprised to see that it wasn’t Eddie’s wife, but someone else entirely. Patty?</p><p>“Richie, open up, I know you’re in there!”</p><p>Richie grimaced. Eddie was there, and he didn’t want him to meet his friends. His lies were flimsy at best, and if they were to tell something that contradicted Richie’s story (starting with his last name, Eddie still convinced that he was Richie Covall), then it would be all over.</p><p>“Is it a friend of yours?”</p><p>Richie jumped, startled. He hadn’t noticed that Eddie left the bathroom (he definitely should have taken more time than that, but Richie wasn’t going to press the subject), and he was now standing there, hair wet, wearing the cozy clothes he brought with him.</p><p>“It’s okay, you can let them in. I’ll make myself discreet, they won’t even hear me or see me if you don’t want to.”</p><p>God, was Eddie really thinking that Richie was hesitating because he was ashamed of him or something? He was realizing more and more how little Eddie thought of himself, and this idea broke Richie’s heart. He shook his head, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door to reveal Patty. She started to say something, but she stopped herself when she noticed Eddie, glancing at them both with a piercing gaze.</p><p>She quickly broke the awkward silence between them, a gentle smile on her lips:</p><p>“Eddie, right? I’ve heard about you. I’m Patty, nice to meet you.”</p><p>Of course, either Ben or Bev must have told her and Stan about Eddie, what Richie consented to say about him. Nothing remained hidden for long in their little group, and they probably were all curious to meet him, Richie’s mysterious friend. Eddie shook Patty’s hand, glancing at Richie with an unsure look, before adding with a nervous chuckle:</p><p>“Only good things, I hope?”</p><p>Richie would never say anything bad about Eddie. But he did reveal that he had a very sheltered life, keeping the details to himself, and Patty was probably trying to gauge him, find the best way to interact with him without startling him. She was always so caring, whether it was with Stan, her friends, her students… And this kindness extended to Eddie, obviously.</p><p>“Of course, Eddie. I’m glad I finally get to talk to you. I brought some babka, if you’d like to eat it? Chocolate and raisin.”</p><p>Richie had the feeling that he dodged a bullet on this one. Patty liked to have serious talks over pastries, because she said that the taste helped to sweeten the blows. She definitely intended to confront him about Stan, and possibly the way he was handling Steve’s absence and all, but given that Eddie was there, she probably put it on hold, planning to do it later. She might not look like it, with her soft appearance, but Patty could be quite fierce, and Richie was absolutely sure that he’d never want to be one of her enemies.</p><p>Eddie, unaware of the whole situation, definitely seemed interested in the pastry, and he nodded quickly, before his worries got the better of him. When Richie noticed that he was already starting to rethink his choice, probably wondering how healthy it was for him to have a bite, he did his best to distract him, putting his arm over Eddie’s shoulder:</p><p>“We were about to watch Cars. You’re up for it?”</p><p>Eddie suddenly seemed self-conscious about the fact that they were about to watch a kids movie, but Patty merely agreed, his lips stretching into an amused smile:</p><p>“I’m always up for a movie with you, Richie, you know that. I missed your imitations. Stanley, not so much...”</p><p>Richie allowed himself to chuckle at the thought. He was definitely a chatty viewer, while Stan was the opposite, enjoying a movie best in a quiet atmosphere. Sometimes, Richie was making an effort, doing his best to keep himself silent throughout the watching. Other times, Stan was the one who let him do his thing, rolling his eyes at his childish behavior, concealing (badly) his amusement.</p><p>They sat on the couch, and Richie whispered to Patty’s ear, before the movie started:</p><p>“I’m sorry about Stan. Is he okay?”</p><p>She glanced at him, sighing, but smiling a little anyway. Her answer relieved Richie, if only so slightly:</p><p>“He’s good. He’s the one you should apologize to. Make sure to do it soon.”</p><p>Richie nodded, but his focus quickly shifted to Eddie, who already found something to complain about in the movie.</p><p>“Why the fuck did they give teeth to cars? That’s so fucking creepy.”</p><p>“It’s a kids movie, Eds. They’re talking cars. They need teeth to talk, it makes sense.”</p><p>“The movie barely started, and NOTHING makes sense. Nothing!”</p><p>Eddie furiously grabbed a piece of babka, his anger dying down as soon as the sweet taste hit him fully.</p><p>“God, this is so good… Thank you, Patty.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. Eat as much as you want.”</p><p>Her happiness at Eddie’s appreciative words was obvious. Richie complimented her as well, but he barely could get himself to eat. Stan should be there, eating with them. But if Patty didn’t bring him with her, she probably didn’t trust Richie to not trigger him again… And it hurt. It fucking hurt. But she was right, and Richie couldn’t fault her for that. He had been so mean, so cruel to his friends, all this time… He missed Stan. He missed them all, so, so much…</p><p>Eddie pulled him out of his thoughts, pointing at the screen, rambling about whatever inconsistency was currently upsetting him. Richie focused on his rant, an amused smile on his lips. Eddie was always so lively, whenever he could talk about something that interested him. So different from the person he was, around Myra…</p><p>Richie hadn’t seen her much, since the first time they met, but he still remembered how Eddie acted, when she was there. Barely able to say a word, trying to make himself as little and unnoticeable as possible, wanting to let her know that she was overstepping his boundaries, but unable to do so… Whatever would happen next, Richie wanted to make sure that Eddie would be able to be just as fierce and affirmative as he was right now, even with his wife.</p><p>But as determined as he was before to disappear from Eddie’s life as soon as his friend would be happy and able to stand up for himself, Richie couldn’t find the same determination today. He… He liked Eddie. He was important to him, the way Stan, Pat, Bev, and Ben were. He couldn’t see a future without them, and he couldn’t see one without him. And Richie shouldn’t, because… because he lied. Because he was an awful person. Because he was going to hurt him so much, if Eddie were to know the truth…</p><p>“Richie? You’re okay?”</p><p>Eddie stopped watching the screen, focusing back on Richie. He hadn’t noticed it, but his eyes were definitely teary… Richie wiped them, cursing himself internally, pretending with a forced smile:</p><p>“This movie, man...”</p><p>“What? You’re not going to make me believe that you’re crying over a goddamn car, Richie. Not you. That’s my thing, remember?”</p><p>Richie chuckled at Eddie’s joke, and he hated himself for that. He should take his distances. He wasn’t supposed to get close, he couldn’t allow himself to… to feel those things for him, he… he…</p><p>Before Richie had the time to break down again, he found his head resting against Eddie’s shoulder, his friend’s fingers guiding him to do so. Patty grabbed his hand as well, squeezing it tenderly, whispering to him:</p><p>“It’s okay. We’re here.”</p><p>They were. They were, and they shouldn’t be. <em>Eddie </em>shouldn’t be. He deserved so much better. Richie knew that he should tell him the truth, that he should stop lying to him, but he was aware of what it meant, and, right now, he… He wasn’t ready. Richie closed his eyes, taking off his glasses and burying his face in his friend’s shoulder, letting out a long sigh. He needed that. He needed them. He needed <em>him. </em>He needed him so much...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Richie's feelings are getting more and more out of hand, and he gets closer and closer to finally tell the truth to Eddie, after all this time. But will he? He knows he risks losing so much, it's not an easy thing to do... Not when Eddie became such a precious part of his life. As for Eddie, he's struggling as well, but he managed to convince himself to get away from this situation and to ask for help, so he's definitely getting better. He just needs time and support, and Richie wants to provide that, but for how long will he manage to do so?</p><p>And yes, I finally brought Patty! I planned for her to have a longer scene in the beginning, but I needed time to set Richie and Eddie's situation, so it'll probably be for the next chapter. Can't wait to write it!</p><p>I had a really good time writing this chapter. I started to plan my next story, I hope you'll like it! Basically, it will be about Eddie being homeless and crossing paths with his childhood friend, Richie, who decides to give him a hand. That's the gist of it, the rest will be told in my next fanfic ;).</p><p>I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos and/or subscribe to this story, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Sorry for the late update, I had a hard time to find the energy and inspiration to write this chapter, but when I finally was able to start writing it, I couldn't stop myself. I really hope you'll like it!</p><p>Thank you all for your support, it really means everything to me c:.</p><p>I can't think of a Trigger Warning for this chapter, but if you notice something, don't hesitate to let me know! Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about the weight in his pocket. It came from a small object, but how heavy it was… When he left with Richie, he decided impulsively to turn off his phone, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to answer his wife’s calls. And yet, Eddie had to restrain himself from grabbing it and powering it on. He knew what would happen if he did.</p><p>He would see the texts that Myra sent him, again and again, begging him to come back, attempting (and probably succeeding) to make him feel guilty. He would witness the missed calls, too many, and he would hear her desperate tone on his voicemail, wondering why he was so cruel to her, why he wasn’t coming back home.</p><p>To be honest, Eddie wasn’t sure he wanted to come back at all. His thoughts drifted towards his lunch with Bill and Mike, this disaster he hadn’t been able to prevent, no matter how much he tried to earn their friendship… God, what were they thinking about him, now? After Myra shared all those private details about his health, surely, they were either pitying him or pretty disgusted by the turmoils his body could go through. How could they see him as a friend, after that?</p><p>Eddie bit his bottom lip, feeling incredibly small. It was <em>his </em>shot… The first time he ever got to make a friend, all on his own. Richie? It wasn’t the same. Destiny basically threw them on the same path, and he only talked to Eddie because he was scared that he would pass out, after his intense run. But Bill and Mike? It was his doing, his achievement, and Myra ruined it. She ruined it all.</p><p>“Eddie?”</p><p>Eddie jumped, startled by Patty’s soft voice. The woman was looking at him with a kind gaze, as if she could guess the kind of thoughts that were crossing his mind at the moment. Richie had fallen asleep on the couch during the movie, dropping pretty badly from his emotional turmoil, and Eddie and Patty moved to the kitchen table, so that they could talk without risking waking him up. Poor Richie definitely needed his sleep…</p><p>Patty made some tea, moving into Richie’s apartment as if it was her own, and they were eating what was left of the pastries she brought, waiting for Richie to stir up naturally from his sleep. Eddie had found himself lost in his thoughts, and he neglected Patty, when he should have been talking to her, getting to know her. God, he was really bad at all of this… If Myra hadn’t ruined his lunch with Bill and Mike, Eddie would have probably managed to do it himself, without needing any help. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I was… somewhere else.”</p><p>“It’s alright. I don’t mind the silence. My husband and I are pretty quiet people.”</p><p>She seemed so different from Richie. There was something peaceful about her, that Eddie couldn’t quite describe. He didn’t feel as anxious with her as he could be with other people. He wondered what kind of man her husband could be. Was he like Richie? Eddie couldn’t imagine two Richie, one was definitely enough. The perfect number of Richie in his life…</p><p>Fortunately for his muddled mind, Eddie was allowed to forget the weird thought he just had, when Patty let him know gently, her fingers tapping a soft rhythm on her mug:</p><p>“I wanted to thank you, Eddie.”</p><p>Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused by this sudden display of gratitude. What did he do to deserve those words? He tried to think back about their afternoon spent together, but nothing came to his mind. Patty had been the one to bring the pastries, to care properly for Richie when he fell asleep, knowing exactly where to find the blanket to cover him for his nap. Eddie didn’t do a thing.</p><p>“Uh… I… What?”</p><p>Patty chuckled at his baffled reaction, adjusting her glasses swiftly. She glanced at Richie, who was currently curled up on the couch, before she looked back at Eddie:</p><p>“Thank you. For Richie. He never allowed himself to express his emotions like that in front of anyone, after…”</p><p>Patty let out a sigh, her eyes landing on a nearby picture, featuring Richie and his husband. Richie was making faces at the camera, while his husband was pinching his cheek, visibly done with his partner’s childish behavior. Still, it was easy to see their complicity, how much they loved each other, in this single frame. Eddie couldn’t help, but feel jealous, wondering what it felt like to live those simple moments with a partner. He and Myra never had this kind of thing, always so serious, rarely letting themselves have any fun.</p><p>“Did he talk to you about Steve?”</p><p>Eddie thought back to their conversations, how Richie kept avoiding the subject, again and again. Steve was rarely brought up and, when it happened, Richie was quick to talk about something else, and Eddie didn’t have the heart to push. He wasn’t sure it was his place, or that Richie was even ready for that.</p><p>“Not really. Why?”</p><p>Patty pursed her lips, drinking her tea, before she put the mug on the table, fidgeting with her hair:</p><p>“It’s been a year. Richie’s still stuck in denial, and none of us know how to help. But he started to get better, when you came into his life. A lot better.”</p><p>Eddie felt his cheeks reddening, his eyes avoiding Patty’s kind, but intense, gaze. He didn’t know what to say… He didn’t have the feeling he did much for Richie. In fact, Richie had been there for him way more than Eddie, during all this time. Reassuring him when he started to get anxious about his health, giving him the courage to stand up to his wife, to do all those things he never allowed himself to do before… What did Eddie do, actually? Right now, he couldn’t even think of a single thing.</p><p>“It’s… It’s not on me, I… We’re just running together.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s what he needed. Someone to run with.”</p><p>Patty checked one last time to see if Richie was still asleep, before she mentioned, tightening her grip on her mug:</p><p>“He never stopped running away from what happened to Steve. We all held out our hands to him, letting him know that he could count on us, but he didn’t want to admit he needed our help. Maybe we pushed too much… But it’s been a whole year. And, until you came into his life, it only seemed to worsen.”</p><p>Eddie couldn’t say he understood what Richie was going through. The only person he ever lost in his life was his mother, and, frankly, after the tears and the predictable sadness, he had been more relieved than anything else. Relieved to know he didn’t have to look for reasons to postpone all the important conversations he needed to have with her. God, Eddie was such a coward, sometimes…</p><p>But Richie loved his husband sincerely, and losing him like that… It was unimaginable. Eddie felt his heart aching at the thought. The closest he could get to understanding his friend’s pain was probably to imagine losing Richie. He had become such a staple in his life, Eddie would be devastated if he could never see him again…</p><p>“But then, he started to take care of himself a bit more. To go out. Talk to people. He barely left his flat before. And now, he’s going out every day, to run with you. You don’t know how grateful I am, how grateful we all are, that you’re a part of his life.”</p><p>Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t deserve all of that, this praise, those kind words, he… he was not the amazing person that Patty thought he was. And Richie helped him, more than anything else. Richie was there for him, not the other way around. Eddie was weak, frail, and filled with constant fear. He couldn’t let her think that any longer…</p><p>“I… It’s not like that, Patty. I’m not… I…”</p><p>Eddie wanted to cry. Oh, if only he could be the great man Patty thought he was! He would be able to talk to Bill and Mike, be the friend they deserved to have. He wouldn’t let his wife walk all over him. And his mom, he… he wouldn’t have let her get away with what she did. But instead, Eddie remained silent. Meek. Allowing everyone to control his life, to decide who he should be… And now what? What was he supposed to do? Who could he become?</p><p>“Richie is helping <em>me. </em>Not the other way around. I can’t let you…”</p><p>An index finger was put on his lips, shutting him up efficiently. Patty was visibly pouting, sitting back on her chair and crossing her arms over her chest:</p><p>“Shh. I listen to you, and all I hear is “bullshit, bullshit, bullshit”. Maybe I don’t know you yet, but Richie definitely changed since he met you, and it’s not a coincidence.”</p><p>Patty’s lips stretched into a smile again, while she was reaching for Eddie’s hand, squeezing it tenderly. Eddie tensed a little at the unprompted physical contact before managing to relax, letting himself appreciate the soft touch. God, he hadn’t realized how much he was craving this kind of physical contact, not until then.</p><p>“You’re a good guy, Eddie. Richie’s lucky to have you as a friend.”</p><p>Eddie’s fingers tightened into a fist, and he pushed back Patty’s gentle hand, shaking his head:</p><p>“You… You said it yourself, you don’t know who I am. I’m not a good guy, and I’m not a good friend.”</p><p>Eddie’s throat closed up, and he barely managed to let out a few words, burying his face in his hands:</p><p>“I don’t know how to help Richie. I don’t know how to make him happy. I can barely handle myself, I…”</p><p>The tears finally rolled down his cheeks, and he raised his head, admitting with a broken voice:</p><p>“I don’t want to die. I’m scared.”</p><p>Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about this possibility, no matter how much he was trying to keep himself busy, to fill every minute of his life. He was lucky to have survived so long, and he knew it. With only his heart to rely on, Eddie could have died at any moment, and now that he had this second chance, it could still fail him, even if he tried to do everything right. </p><p>He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, when he never allowed himself to live. Eddie naively thought that this new heart might give him the courage he never had, but he was still the same man, still scared to death, unable to do a thing without relying on his wife, hiding behind her as he used to hide behind his mother when he was younger. Richie said it himself: Eddie wasn’t a child anymore. But he didn’t know how to be an adult… How to be brave…</p><p>He had no idea if Patty knew about his heart condition, but she didn’t comment on his words. Instead, she stood up from her chair, hugging him, brushing his hair tenderly. Eddie literally melted, shook to realize how different it was to be in her arms, compared to his mom or Myra. He didn’t feel trapped, here. He knew he could stop it whenever he wanted. But he didn’t wish to. It was… It was just so good.</p><p>“It’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone, alright? You said it yourself, Richie’s there for you. And I’m sure we’ll become good friends, so you’ll have to bear my presence and my support as well.”</p><p>Patty winked, and Eddie let out a weird sound, between a chuckle and a sob. God, he was such a mess… Was this really the first impression he was making on Richie’s friend? Eddie couldn’t help, but wonder how long it would take for her to run away and never come back. He probably covered her clothes with his snot, disgusting… Eddie wouldn’t blame her, if she decided to never see him again. </p><p>Patty seemed to guess his negative thoughts, and she invited him to raise his gaze towards her, a friendly expression on her face:</p><p>“I mean it. Every word. Anyone who can manage to get Richie to keep his flat clean is a friend in my book. I’m not gonna let you go away so easily.”</p><p>Eddie chuckled again, snorting. He wiped his face, Patty interrupting her hug, and asked her with a cheeky voice:</p><p>“So, what, it’s just because I turned Richie into a perfect househusband? I’m wounded.”</p><p>“I could start wearing an apron, if you want me to.”</p><p>Richie had snuck up on them, and Patty reflexively let out a surprised squeal. Eddie was just as startled as she was, his hearts racing behind his rib-cage. He took a deep breath, putting a trembling hand on his chest, while Patty asked with an awkward tone:</p><p>“How much did you hear?”</p><p>“Pretty much everything. You guys aren’t discreet.”</p><p>Richie sat next to Eddie, and Eddie tensed, wondering if his friend was angry against them. He should know better than to talk about Richie behind his back! Eddie was well aware of how much this kind of thing could hurt! He was about to apologize, but Richie was the first to do so, his gaze directed towards Patty:</p><p>“I’m sorry. For what I said to Stan and, uh, you know. The whole package.”</p><p>Richie shrugged, yawning and scratching his hair:</p><p>“If I started to list it all, we’d still be here tomorrow. Stan wouldn’t appreciate it, right?”</p><p>Patty smiled, shaking her head:</p><p>“No, he wouldn’t. We have a busy evening planned.”</p><p>“Oh, I feel the puzzle night coming!” Richie laughed, poking Patty’s cheek. “You’re both so old sometimes.”</p><p>“And you’re just a kid, Richie. But that’s why we love you so much.”</p><p>Richie’s smile faltered slightly. He let out a sigh, glancing at Eddie, before his gaze landed on Patty again. Twisting his fingers nervously, he admitted with a serious voice:</p><p>“I know I’ve been a handful. And I’m thankful that you’re still there, even though I’ve been such a shithead. I’m… I’m trying, alright? I am.”</p><p>And it wasn’t easy. Eddie knew that. And Patty too, visibly, according to the supportive hand she put on his shoulder, squeezing it tenderly:</p><p>“Yeah. But you don’t have to do that alone, you know? You never had to.”</p><p>Richie was about to say something when Patty’s phone vibrated. She grabbed it and grimaced, noticing the hour:</p><p>“I think I overstayed my welcome. It’s our night, Stanley’s gonna be cranky if I don’t come back. And there’s a puzzle we definitely have to solve together!”</p><p>“Well, don’t let us hold you back, Professor Layton. Go back to your faithful assistant!”</p><p>“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about, Richie.”</p><p>Eddie was just as lost as Patty, but it wasn’t uncommon. So many things in life he never got to experience… Richie was already helping him to catch up on all the movies he hadn’t been able to watch during his childhood and even more. He was filling the gaps in Eddie’s life, in so many ways…</p><p>The flat was strangely silent when Patty finally left. Richie started to wash the dishes, insisting for Eddie to stay put while he was doing so. Sitting on his chair, Eddie didn’t really know what to say or what to do, his anxiety back after Patty managed to subdue it a little while. Was Richie angry because they talked about him in his back? Was he going to lash out at Eddie? Tell him to go home?</p><p>Eddie bit his bottom lip, pulling out his phone, wondering if he should turn it on. He didn’t have the time to do so, Richie telling him, still washing the dishes:</p><p>“You don’t have to make me happy, Eds.”</p><p>The plates clattered when Richie put them aside, and Eddie flinched despite himself, his breathing turning into an anxious wheeze. Noticing the change in Eddie’s behavior, Richie stopped what he was doing, sitting in front of his friend to talk to him frankly:</p><p>“I mean it. And not because I’m upset or think that you’re not up to the task or whatnot. Patty’s right, you helped a lot.”</p><p>Richie sighed, fidgeting with his glasses. He seemed to bear the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, and Eddie didn’t know what to do to comfort him. He was so fucking useless! </p><p>“It’s not your job. My happiness is not your responsibility. The fact that you’re here, with me, it’s already more than I deserve. I…”</p><p>Richie interrupted himself, looking for his words. Eddie let him do so, getting his hands closer to Richie’s, trying to find the courage to grab them and provide him some comfort. He couldn’t believe that Richie could think so lowly of himself… Of course, his friend deserved Eddie’s presence. He deserved the whole world!</p><p>“Focus on yourself, Eds. I think you already have enough on your plate, without adding my issues to your pile.”</p><p>Richie pointed at Eddie’s phone, and Eddie cringed, avoiding his friend’s gaze. It wasn’t accusatory, but it burned and hurt nonetheless. Eddie was being weak, and he knew it. A part of him wanted to turn on this phone and call his wife, aching for her control, desperate to find relief in the way she handled every aspect of his life. It was so fucking tempting, he… he…</p><p>“It’s just a phone, Eddie. Nothing more. You decide what you want to make of this object. It doesn’t have to control you.”</p><p>Eddie couldn’t stop himself from scoffing, regretting it immediately afterward. Coming from his friend, it was rich! Richie couldn’t even get himself to call anyone with his own phone, because it had Steve’s voicemail on it. And yet, he… he called him. When Eddie asked for his help, he came to the rescue, immediately. Eddie’s insides warmed up at the thought, and he realized he didn’t even tell him how grateful he had been for his help!</p><p>“I… Thank you. For answering your phone, coming to help, and bringing me here. I… I really needed that. I needed you.”</p><p>Richie seemed incredibly flustered by his words, but Eddie was telling the truth. When he needed him, Richie stepped up and helped. Without him, Eddie wouldn’t have had the courage to leave. And he wouldn’t be able to keep his phone turned off. Myra was probably still trying to reach him…</p><p>“Maybe I should… uh… you know. Just let her know I’m okay.”</p><p>Eddie felt awful. Awful and ashamed. He was aching to turn on his phone, and, at the same time, this mere thought was enough to make him feel like he was going to hurl. He was fighting against himself, and he wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to resist…</p><p>Richie looked at him thoughtfully, before he grabbed Eddie’s phone, holding it over his sink full of soapy water. Eddie let out an indignant shout, standing up to get his cellphone back. He was that close to getting it back when Richie finally said, a serious expression on his face:</p><p>“One word from you, and I drop it.”</p><p>Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused. What kind of game was Richie playing?</p><p>“What the fuck, Richie? It’s my phone!”</p><p>“Yeah, and its fate is up to you, Eds. I’m not gonna drop it if you don’t ask me to.”</p><p>Richie was holding the object tightly, waiting for Eddie’s command, whatever it would be. Eddie’s throat tightened at the idea that he could actually ask him to open his fingers and let it drown. His phone. His fucking phone. Whenever he wasn’t home, Myra would call him, text him, keeping track of where he was, what he was doing… At first, he thought it was reassuring, almost flattering, to know how much she cared about him. But now, Eddie saw it all for what it was: his invisible prison cell bars. </p><p>As long as he could turn on his phone, Myra would still be around, even if she wasn’t there. Her presence, her authority, her control… Eddie wheezed again, unable to bear this thought. He grabbed the phone from Richie’s hands, attempting to throw it himself in the water, to drown this fucking object and have some peace of mind for at least a day, but… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.</p><p>Gently, Richie put his hand over Eddie’s, whispering to his ear:</p><p>“You don’t have to do that alone. Just tell me to do it, and I’ll help you to let it go.”</p><p>Richie’s breath tickled Eddie’s skin. His hand was so big and firm, on top of his own. Eddie’s wheeze became a little more intense, overwhelmed by his feelings, the sensations provided by Richie’s proximity. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to lead this battle on his own, he…. He…</p><p>“P… Please.”</p><p>Eddie didn’t resist, when Richie spread his fingers, getting him to open his hand. His phone fell into the sink, and, for a second, Eddie wondered how he was going to explain that to his boss and his coworkers, until the relief finally seized him. His phone was dead. Even if he tried to turn it on, he wouldn’t be able to. Myra’s texts and voicemails disappeared, and Eddie would never have to listen to them.</p><p>He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. Instead, he hugged Richie tightly, whispering with a desperate voice:</p><p>“Thank you, thank you, thank you…”</p><p>Eddie couldn’t explain how light he felt at the moment. Free. If he decided to leave Richie’s flat and go somewhere, anywhere, Myra wouldn’t be able to know where he was. He could do whatever he wanted, he… he wasn’t a prisoner anymore. No, he wasn’t.</p><p>It took a while for Richie to close his arms around Eddie, as if he had been too shocked to do the same until then. Eddie let out a soft sigh when he did, feeling as if he was right where he belonged. Patty’s hugs were lovely, but Richie’s… It was a whole other level. For some reason, Eddie never wanted to leave his friend’s arms. They held him strong, tight, and shielded him from the rest of the world. From himself. Could he stay here forever?</p><p>And yet, it had to end, at some point. Eddie didn’t know why Richie suddenly stepped back, as soon as he raised his head and gazed at him. But he did, and Eddie didn’t want to force him to do something that he visibly wasn’t comfortable with. Even though it felt so good…</p><p>“I, uh, if you’re feeling better, Eds, we can check what’s in the fridge. See if there is something that you’d like to eat.”</p><p>Eddie nodded distractedly. He couldn’t care less about this evening’s meal, to be honest, but he didn’t want to upset Richie any further. They were about to start cooking something when Richie let him know, a thoughtful smile on his lips:</p><p>“If… If you start to feel scared again, about your heart and all, call me, alright? I… I don’t know what you’re going through, or if I can really make the fear go away, but I know tons of terrible jokes that you could roll your eyes at, if you ever need to. I’ll answer. Or I’ll call you back. I swear.”</p><p>Eddie appreciated Richie’s gesture. He still felt the need to tell him, with a cheeky grin:</p><p>“It’s gonna be complicated, since you literally drowned my phone, Richie.”</p><p>Richie chuckled, retorting immediately:</p><p>“I didn’t, you’re the one who dropped it.”</p><p>“You started it all in the first place!”</p><p>It didn’t take them long to go back to their usual banter, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Eddie knew very well that it was just a short respite, that he would have to go back to his life, to his wife, sooner or later. But right now, he wanted to stay with his friend. To laugh with him. Eddie loved it, whenever Richie was laughing, so loud, so unabashed. He loved it so much...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eddie's feelings for Richie are growing progressively, but he's not ready to acknowledge it yet. For now, he just knows how much he feels better when he's with Richie, compared to when he's with Myra. And he managed to let go of his phone, and Myra, for a little while, but how long will it last?</p><p>It was so fun to get to write Patty again, I missed her since "Listen to me". She's such an interesting character, and the canon gives us so little of her, unfortunately. I hope you appreciated to see her too!</p><p>Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay! I'm finally writing the chapter I was dying to write for such a long time... I really hope you'll enjoy it. I won't say much about it right now, but it's definitely going to make the story progress in different ways ;). </p><p>Thank you all for your support, your comments, your kudos, and everything. This story and you all are really helping me to keep going during a difficult time, so really, thanks. I wish you all the best.</p><p>Here are the trigger warnings for this chapter:</p><p>TW for ableism<br/>TW for mention of eugenism<br/>TW for mention of abuse<br/>TW for mention of pedophilia</p><p>I think that's all c:. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie had sincerely hesitated to call Beverly and cancel their plans. When he accepted it, more or less reluctantly, he had no idea that he would have to rescue Eddie from the terrible situation he was trapped in. And, despite Myra’s power and influence over him, Eddie was still here, at Richie’s flat, getting his first taste of freedom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving Eddie on his own felt like an awful idea. Despite his bravery, it was pretty obvious that Eddie was in a fragile state, and Richie worried that he would try to reach out to Myra or that she would come here and feed his mind with the bullshit he was so used to. If Richie came back from whatever Beverly had planned to find an empty apartment, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, he knew that his mind was mostly trying to find a way for him to not have to go with Beverly. Richie wasn’t going to like it, that was for sure. He knew he could bring up Eddie to try to avoid it altogether, but the mere thought was enough to twist his guts with guilt and unease. He didn’t want to use his friend, he was already lying to his face… Eddie deserved better from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was why he asked Beverly to come with Ben, so that he would keep Eddie company while they would be somewhere else. Among them all, Ben was definitely the kindest, and he would know how to keep him distracted, away from his negative thoughts. Eddie was going to love him, no doubt about it. Even if Eddie meeting his friends was endangering his secret, Richie knew it was for the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie needed that. People who didn’t see him as his sickness, and his sickness only. He wasn’t a list of symptoms or a string of labels to qualify his health state. Eddie was so much more than that. And Richie hoped he would be able to realize it, someday…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night before had been pretty complicated. Richie heard Eddie ruffling around for a while, leaving the pullout couch to lock himself in the bathroom. He tried to tell him something, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not even knowing where to start, unsure if Eddie wanted him to witness him, being so vulnerable. After a while, Richie finally found the courage to get up, pouring himself and Eddie a tea and grabbing a few biscuits, eating them with his friend while watching some rom-com until they managed to fall asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he had been unable to say anything worthwhile, Eddie still relied on him, his head resting on Richie’s shoulder while they were watching the movie they picked, finding comfort in his touch. Richie had never been so immobile before, as if he feared that Eddie would move away if he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart had been beating so loudly in his chest that he wondered if it would pierce his rib-cage… Richie convinced himself that it was probably because he wasn’t used to people being so close to him anymore, and he was perhaps a bit touch-starved, but there was this nagging feeling, trying to get him to understand that it was deeper than that. Richie did his best to ignore it, unable to walk on this path, to explore this truth he didn’t want to witness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, maybe it was for the best, this meeting with Beverly. Richie’s mind would be focused on something else, even if he was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it, and he wouldn’t have to wonder why Eddie’s proximity was so endearing to him. It wasn’t like Richie didn’t have an answer to this question, but he had always been skilled when it came to denial, and this situation wasn’t an exception.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had expected Beverly to be curious about Eddie, and ask him many questions his friend would probably feel too flustered or awkward to answer, but she surprised him, only introducing herself, letting him know how happy she was to finally meet him. Richie quickly realized that she didn’t want to remain here long, and that whatever she had planned didn’t allow them to chat and get Eddie, Ben, and Beverly acquainted. Beverly kissed Ben, reminding him to send her a text if anything happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t really think it through, when he got the brilliant idea to help Eddie drown his cellphone. If it meant that Myra couldn’t reach him anymore, it also implied that Eddie had basically no way to contact him if he wasn’t around. What if he needed him? What if one of his hearts, if not both, acted out, and Eddie couldn’t call anyone to help? Yeah, no, Richie really fucked up on that one…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Ben was here, able to call if needed, and Richie promised himself that he would take Eddie to a store to get him a new phone. One with Myra’s number blocked, if possible. Of course, Richie knew that going forward with this plan would probably mean that Eddie was leaving his wife definitely, but he wasn’t quite sure Eddie was there yet. Richie had seen how tempting it had been for him to turn on his phone and check her messages, perhaps even call her. But a man could hope, right? Eddie deserved so much better than what he had right now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly offered Richie a ride, and their trip had been weirdly quiet. Usually, Richie would have turned on the radio, and he would have sung at the top of his lungs, Beverly more than happy to share the stage with him. But right now, none of them could even bring themselves to talk. Beverly knew what she had planned for Richie, and, whatever it was, he was definitely anxious about it. Gnawing on his fingernails, Richie almost didn’t notice that Beverly finally stopped the car, signaling him to follow her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was really tempted to call a cab and to go back to his flat, where Eddie was, but instead, he followed her, trying to remain calm and to keep his emotions under control. He had no idea where they were. In town, for sure, but nothing seemed really familiar… Beverly entered a building, and Richie did the same, stopping dead in his tracks as soon as he realized </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> his friend took him there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chairs arranged in a circle, the people glancing at each other with this unsure look, the posters on the walls… There was no mistaking it. While Beverly was hugging the woman leading this group, whispering words to her, Richie took a step back, feeling utterly betrayed. He didn’t want to talk about Steve with all those people! He didn’t want to listen to their sob stories and the stupid things this woman would tell them, as if it would fix anything, as it could ever fill the emptiness in his life!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fighting back the tears, Richie turned his back on the group, ready to head out, when Beverly stopped him, grabbing his back:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gritted his teeth, anger swirling around, his mind providing him colorful insults to throw at her face for this backstabbing, but he managed to keep them in, letting her know with a furious tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this was your big plan, uh? Me talking to a bunch of strangers about Steve? What’s next? We’re all gonna hold hands and sing fucking Kumbaya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly pursed her lips, but she knew better than to nourish Richie’s anger. She stopped grabbing his arm, holding his hand instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, please, listen to me. Those people, they helped me when I was dealing with my dad. They… They get it, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Richie didn’t know. He didn’t want to know! Great for Beverly if she finally managed to let her fucking father go, but Steve wasn’t Alvin Marsh, and Richie didn’t want him gone. He wanted the ache, the empty feeling, everything that reminded him how great of a man he had been, and how much he loved and still love him. Allowing himself to move on would be a betrayal, or even worse than that…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not staying there any longer, Bev.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat felt tight, burning with the need to cry and evacuate his frustration in any way he could think of. He couldn’t believe that Beverly really thought that a grief support group would help. Worse, she didn’t even tell him what she planned, and he felt trapped. Trapped and hurt. He would never have agreed on this meeting if he was aware of her plans, and she knew it. She fucking knew it!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stopped breathing for a second when Beverly hugged him, as tight as she could. He didn’t return the gesture, too surprised and upset to do so, but it didn’t deter her. On the contrary, she started to caress his back with her long fingers, asking him, almost begging him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just this once. Please, just this once. And if it doesn’t help, if you don’t want to go back, I… I won’t insist anymore. I won’t try to force you to accept my help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could see that it cost her a lot to say so. Out of everyone, Beverly had been the more determined to pull him out of his depressed state, the first to notice that he wasn’t allowing himself to grieve. She had been harsh, insisting, annoying, but, Richie knew it, she wanted to help. She was seeing him drowning, and she was trying to force his fingers open, so that she could hold his hand and get him out of his wallowing despair. Richie had been struggling nonstop, almost losing her in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want that to happen. Richie just had to suck it up, and then, Beverly would stop nagging him about Steve. They could go back to being friends, without her feeling responsible for his well-being. He would be able to pretend while she was here, smiling and joking, keeping his dark thoughts to himself. It seemed like a pretty good deal…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though everything in him was screaming to get out, Richie didn’t listen to it, letting out a long sigh, before he finally relented:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“… Alright. I’m staying. But you better have to keep your end of the bargain, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to go back to simpler times. Where he could just be Richie, make people laugh with his antics, and spend time with his friends, oblivious to the tragedy that would strike later. But there was no way to do that. So, he might as well accept her bargain, and hope that she would keep her promise. But she would do so… It was Beverly, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie put his hands in his sweater’s pockets, keeping himself close and distant. He had nothing to do with any of these people. He didn’t want to get better. He had no desire to erase Steve’s constant presence from his mind, from his heart. His husband meant the world to him, and he still did, no matter what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greeted by the woman in charge of the group, Harriet Bolton, Richie barely answered, too upset to find it in himself to care about being courteous. He didn’t want to be there. He only stayed because Bev promised him that she would leave him alone afterward if he did. It wasn’t like it would be of any help to him. Richie didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>heal. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, Richie couldn’t wait for it to end. He felt incredibly out of place, surrounded by those folks that were actually seeking help, trying to handle their grief in a healthy way. He wasn’t like them… He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t stop fidgeting during most of the meeting. He tried to convince himself that he was bored out of his mind, but he couldn’t help, but be touched by the stories they were sharing. The distress, the loneliness, the nagging feeling that they could have done something differently, anything… Richie knew all of that too well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept wondering what would have happened if he didn’t oversleep, if he was with Steve in the car when it happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have been in a fucking accident… Perhaps he would still be alive today… Maybe Richie would have been the one to die. Instead, he was stuck with the worst outcome, left behind to roam in a life that didn’t make sense anymore. The questions never stopped. God, they never stopped…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remained silent for a while, waiting for the end of this unbearable meeting, when someone managed to grasp his focus, getting under his skin in no time:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She could listen to “Let it go” on repeat for a whole day. Again, and again, and again, always finding pleasure in this song. Sometimes, I almost wanted to smash our poor computer, if it could grant us some needed silence and quiet time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay McCall, that was her name, chuckled thoughtfully, adding with a soft smile on her full lips:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Recently, I heard this song on TV. After Maddie passed away, I couldn’t bear to listen to it. It reminded me of her absence, everything I wouldn’t get to show her, to live with her. It reminded me how alone I was. How lonely I felt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was still smiling. The sight was enough to make Richie feel genuinely angry, upset, frustrated. Her daughter was dead, and she was smiling! She was fucking smiling!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But when I heard it recently, I didn’t remember the bad things. It made me think of her in the sweetest way. How lucky I was that she was a part of my life, even for such a short ti…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grave silence fell on the whole group. Beverly’s gaze was heavy on him, as well as the hand she put on his, but Richie was too upset to fully realize what he was about to say. He was furious, he was so fucking serious! How could she look so happy? How could she? Richie knew he was about to be unbelievably cruel, but he couldn’t stop himself, only able to witness the train-wreck while it was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maddie is dead, and nothing will bring her back. You’ll never get to hear her laugh again. She’ll never be able to tell you how much she loves you. You won’t hug her anymore. You…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly squeezed his wrist, harshly, and Mrs. Bolton was about to stop it all, but Kay raised her hand, letting them know quietly that she wanted to hear what he had to say. If he wasn’t so focused on his own feelings, Richie would have probably been able to notice the way her lips slightly wobbled, Kay keeping them pursed to prevent herself from crying openly. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You can’t just listen to this song, and tell yourself that it’s okay, that it’s fine! She’s not there anymore! She’s not there, and you have to miss her, you have to! If you don’t, she…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said I wasn’t missing Maddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone was calm, but her gaze was piercing, intense, revealing the turmoil she was trying to keep under control. Kay was visibly not the kind to take shit and keep quiet about it. She listened to Richie’s furious and despaired rant, and now, she was going to answer. And Richie knew he was going to regret every single one of his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss my daughter deeply. I fought to keep her, when every doctor tried to convince me to abort her, because she was disabled. They told me that she would be hopeless, that it would be merciful to end her before it was too late, but I knew that I wanted her, and that I was ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was fierce, proud, loving, intimidating in a way Richie hadn’t thought she would be at first. He crossed his arms over his chest again, trying to avoid her eyes, but she wasn’t about to stop there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was my everything. She was smart, she was kind, she was beautiful, and I loved her so much that I would have died for her, without any hesitation. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled a picture from her wallet, shoving it to Richie’s face. A teenager with Down syndrome, dark frizzy hair and black skin, faced the camera, smiling openly, the happiest smile Richie had witnessed in a while. She radiated, and Richie’s heart ached even more, knowing that she wasn’t here anymore, that he had such harsh words for her mother, about her...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why you’re here, exactly, but I know that you lost someone and that it fucking hurts. It feels like you’re being gutted at every moment of your day, when you’re not emptier than a freaking black hole. It doesn’t heal. You don’t magically turn happy-go-lucky one day and forget all about them. You really think that, because her memory makes me smile, I’m not grieving her in the right way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t say a thing, and he regretted every word that came out of his mouth. He couldn’t even get himself to move when Kay stood up, her finger pointing at his chest accusatorily:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare I? How fucking dare you? You come here, and you disrespect us, and you behave like a freaking child on timeout, and what? We’re supposed to take it gracefully when you feel like you’re so better than us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay didn’t let him finish his sentence. He wasn’t even sure he would have known how to…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you did! For fuck’s sake! I miss my daughter! Harriet misses her husband! Carlton lost his little brother! And you really think that you can scoff at us? That you have any right to judge us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her anger was burning, and Richie felt small in a way he never had been. She wasn’t entirely wrong… He didn’t think that he was better than them, but… but Richie was clearly upset that they were trying to get well, while he wasn’t. That they were seeking help, when he was staying behind, clutching to his pain like a lifeline, never allowing himself a single step towards recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was shaking, the memories assaulting his brain, shame gnawing at his guts. He could barely hear himself when he started to mumble, tight throat, Beverly’s hand squeezing his encouragingly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He… His name was Steve. He is… He was… my husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first time Richie talked about Steve using the past tense. Acknowledging that he wasn’t there anymore. That he was gone. No. That he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Raising his glasses with his free hand, Richie wiped his eyes, managing to get a few more words out:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss him. I’m not ready to let go. I… I miss him so much…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Richie couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They poured out uncontrollably, while he was repeating his last sentence endlessly, a painful litany that he was only now willing to admit out loud. He missed Steve. God, he missed him. And he wasn’t there anymore. He wouldn’t be there anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Supporting arms hugged him. For a second, Richie thought it was Bev, but he was surprised to see that it was Kay, the woman engulfing him in a warm and strong embrace, as if he hadn’t been the worst towards her, as if he didn’t dare to imply that she didn’t miss her daughter in the right way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know, just let it out. I’m here. We’re all here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all lost someone. They all suffered, in different ways. Richie’s pain wasn’t worth more or less than theirs. They lost a partner, a child, a brother, a sister, a parent, a friend… And they were there for each other. Telling their stories. Listening to everyone else. Holding their hand out. Richie… Richie just had to grab them. He just had to…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had no idea how long he cried. He was still not quite calm down, when Beverly decided to share her complicated relationship with her father and his death. How she hated him, how she knew that she hated him, and yet how much a part of her ached when he died in jail, as if she was missing his abuse, the way she treated her. How proud she was to have kept her emotions under control when one of her colleagues called her “Bevvy”, the nickname that Alvin Marsh always had for her. And how much she wished to be able to go through the anniversary of his death without breaking down in her husband’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who would understand, after all? The man hurt her, in the worst ways, and yet, a small part of her was missing him. And she felt awful about it. Richie felt incredibly guilty when he heard Beverly’s confessions, realizing how much his words must have hurt her back then. She was already doubting herself (and yet, trying to help him despite everything) when Richie rubbed salt in the wound, throwing at her face that the grief she was feeling for her father meant nothing, that she had no right to try to relate to his own pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hated the man that he had started to become. And he was pretty sure that Steve would have despised him as well. He couldn’t stay on that path, hurting everyone around him, wallowing in his own pain as if it would truly allow him to keep Steve around. It didn’t. It never did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie felt incredibly exhausted when the meeting was over. And yet, he also felt relieved, in a strange way. He didn’t understand why, but he had the distinct feeling that the weight on his shoulders was slightly lighter. Lighter than it had ever been, anyway. Before he and Beverly left, Richie immediately went to Kay and Harriet, apologizing to them. He had been horrible to Kay, and he almost ruined the whole meeting in the process…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay merely shrugged, telling him that men were assholes and that she was used to it, a cheeky grin on her lips. Richie took the sarcastic answer gracefully, agreeing with her wholly. Harriet was more serious and caring, letting him know with a tender smile:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the first to explode during one of our meetings. Grief can manifest in a lot of ways. I would cry out of nowhere, over things I couldn’t even identify. Kay punched a hole in the wall, once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I broke my fucking knuckles. To be fair, it was Down syndrome day, and my fucking neighbor thought he was being supportive by wearing mismatched socks to show how woke he was. And he told me so repeatedly, as if I should thank him for his action. Tsk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay crossed her arms over her chest, muttering angrily:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if he wasn’t the first to complain when Maddie was crying, because some fuckers threw insults at her face. Asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could only agree with her, his thoughts going back to Eddie for a fleeting moment. He wondered if there was such a day for people with heart disease, and how he felt about it. He grimaced, quite sure that Myra was definitely celebrating it if it existed, parading Eddie around like a well-behaved pet she was particularly proud of. He definitely deserved much more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay and Beverly were vividly talking, visibly acquainted and friendly towards each other. Richie let her do so, helping Harriet to put the chairs back where they belonged. She lost a husband too… And yet, when Richie only thought about himself and tried to push back everyone else, she reached out to those people who suffered like her, trying to help. She was so strong, stronger than Richie could ever be…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harriet glanced at Richie, waiting patiently for him to finish his sentence, while he was fumbling, looking for his words:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you manage to do all of that?” He gestured towards the whole room, arms flailing around. “Why did you create this group?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled again, and Richie clearly noticed the hint of sadness behind her kind expression. She was hurting, even when she looked cheerful. She missed her husband, just like Richie missed his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put the last chair back in its place, stretching his limbs, answering him with a smile:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a son, Skipper. He needed help. He needed his mother, and I had to be strong. But I knew I couldn’t do it alone. So, I brought those people together, and we supported each other. They were there for me, and I was there for every one of them. We still are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put her hand on Richie’s shoulder, squeezing it tenderly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no shame in needing help. You lost someone, and it’s a pain that will never go away. But you can learn to live with it, little by little. And you can build things on what you had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harriet pulled out her phone, showing a picture to Richie. A man wearing a police uniform, smiling awkwardly at the camera, his arm keeping Harriet close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met him a few months ago. Aloysius is incredibly kind and understanding. And he’s getting along well with Skipper. He knows that my son will always miss his father, and that I will always weep for my husband, but he doesn’t try to replace him. We wouldn’t want him to. He’s just building his own place there, in our family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed fond of him. And happy. Richie knew that, if he had been aware of it before the meeting started, he would have probably judged her harshly, not mincing his words for one second. He couldn’t imagine himself replacing Steve. He just couldn’t. And yet… And yet, Eddie was now a part of his life. In a different way. A way that didn’t invalidate Steve’s existence, the love Richie felt for him. And he… he wanted Eddie to stay. He… He lo…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, her alarmed voice sending him right back to the real world. She was reading her texts, her worried gaze meeting Richie’s. It could only mean one thing. Eddie. Eddie was in danger. His breath was stuck in his throat, and he only managed to inhale a little when Beverly grabbed his hand, urging him back to her car, letting him know what it was all about:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His wife is pounding at the door. It’s bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Richie really thought that Eddie was dying from a heart attack. And yet, the alternative didn’t seem much better. Eddie needed him. He needed him, and Richie wasn’t there. He should be. He had to be!</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's the end of this chapter! </p><p>Before some of you might think the wrong thing, I'm not anti-abortion. At all. I just think that disability is immediately treated as a terrible thing and that no one should pressure parents to abort only because their kids might be disabled. We need a society that is more inclusive and supportive for disabled folks of all kinds (saying that as an autistic person). That's something I wanted to talk about for a while, and that I never managed to write in my previous story.</p><p>Kay seemed to be the perfect character for this particular story. I never read the book, but I've heard a lot about her in my IT discord server, and I wanted to put her in my story, she seems awesome. </p><p>With that said, Richie took quite a lot of steps forward in this chapter. Accepting help, letting his pain being expressed out loud, acknowledging his mistakes... I think being surrounded with people who know what he's going through will really help. It was so intense to write.</p><p>And Eddie's in deep shit. Little fun fact, I actually hesitated to stop the chapter with Beverly telling Richie that there was something wrong with Eddie, but I decided that it was too cruel of a cliffhanger, so you kinda know where it's headed.</p><p>I can't wait to write that chapter either, it's gonna be really interesting!</p><p>Thank you for your support. Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay! I'm doing fine, although I'm getting ready for one of my wisdom tooth to be pulled out next Thursday, and, frankly, I'm quite scared x). But it's gonna be okay... Anyway, thank you all for your support! It really means everything to me. That's why I can still find the energy to write, despite the workday and all c:. It's all thanks to you!</p><p>Anyway, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for internalized ableism<br/>TW for infantilization<br/>TW for mention of bullying<br/>TW for emotional manipulation</p><p>I think that's all! Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be here. Eddie couldn’t stop this thought from wracking his brain, again and again. It didn’t leave him since he decided to stay with Richie at his flat, spending the night there, away from his everyday life. Away from Myra. God, he didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>call </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. She must be worried sick. Eddie never left her like he did the previous day, without her explicit permission. He did leave a note, but… but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and his heavy heart, failing to do so. If Richie was here, maybe he’d feel a little bit better, but he wasn’t. His friend had something to do elsewhere, and Eddie didn’t dare to ask him to stay, even though he really wanted to. Eddie felt vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in a while… Thankfully, he wasn’t alone. Ben was here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the second time Eddie got to meet one of Richie’s friends. Well, third, if he counted Beverly, but they barely had a moment to get to know each other, before she had to leave with Richie. He couldn’t help, but feel slightly envious at the idea that Richie was so well surrounded. Eddie wished for friends since his youngest years, his classmates uninterested by the little boy who barely spent half of the required time in school, and who couldn’t do a thing because he was too fragile. He had to wait until his adult years to get lucky enough to meet Richie, and talk to Bill and Mike…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit his bottom lip, thinking about his neighbors, and how quickly their possible friendship had been ruined. If only Myra didn’t run her mouth, if only she kept for herself all of those details about Eddie’s health… He didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them to see him as the “sick guy” and nothing else, as most people tended to do. Eddie was more than his heart condition. Or, at least, he wanted to believe that it was the case…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben wasn’t very talkative. He seemed pretty awkward, glancing at Eddie, parting his lips, closing them after a little while, hiding his face behind his coffee mug. Eddie couldn’t blame him. He didn’t really know what to say either. He had no idea what Ben might know about him, if he was aware of his health issues, why he was really keeping him company… Eddie would like to believe that Richie kept it all hidden. He trusted his friend to not spill his private life to anyone else, unlike Myra…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie took a deep breath and, after Ben’s umpteenth attempt at talking (and holding himself back from doing so), he decided to take the initiative himself, asking the shy man with a clumsy smile on his lips:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how did you and Richie meet? He seems to trust you quite a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough to leave him with Eddie in his most vulnerable state. Eddie wished he had someone he could rely on that much. He wanted to believe that Richie was this person for him, someone he could trust with his own life, if needed… But he didn’t want to put that burden on Richie’s shoulders either. He already had enough on his plate, dealing with his grief and all…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben seemed incredibly relieved that Eddie provided him with a topic to talk about. He chuckled awkwardly, toying with the spoon in his mug, before he finally answered:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re childhood friends. Richie and Bev saved me from the guy who bullied me. If they didn’t stop him in time, I would have his name carved into my skin with a pocketknife…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Eddie put down his coffee, or he would have likely spat it out at Ben’s words. Eyes wide, he let out with a surprised tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fuck! That’s not bullying, it’s… it’s plain torture!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking back, perhaps it was for the best that Eddie had been ignored by most of his classmates. If he had been targeted by someone like that, he probably wouldn’t have survived it… His heart would have likely failed him before making it past his twenties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben nodded thoughtfully, his hands shaking slightly, despite his attempt at concealing it. It was pretty obvious that he hadn’t quite processed this event yet, despite the years, and Eddie had no troubles understanding why. It must have been pretty traumatic, this whole fucking event… Eddie shivered at the idea of being in Ben’s shoes, his skin cut clean by a blade, wondering if it would be the end, right here, right now. He already had enough to worry about with his health, thank you very much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry it happened to you. That’s fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. Richie and Bev got him to run away, throwing rocks at his face. I think one of them hit his brow bone? His face was covered with blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing Ben’s story, Eddie wondered what kind of childhood Richie had, if a guy like that was a part of it. They never really took the time to talk about it. To be honest, Eddie didn’t really want to talk about his own youth, especially to someone he barely knew. Ben didn’t seem to think twice before mentioning his “bullying”, if it could even be called like that, but Eddie… Eddie would rather keep that part of his life to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would he have to say, anyway? Should he talk about the years he spent at the hospital, wondering every day if it was his last? Or perhaps should he mention his overbearing mother and how much she made his life hell? Maybe he could let him know how much of a coward Eddie Kaspbrak used to be… Still was, actually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie jumped, startled. Ben was looking at him, as if he was waiting for him to say something. Did he miss part of the conversation? Whenever Eddie was thinking back to this childhood, it was pretty easy for him to get entangled in the memories, the regrets, the sadness, pulling him out from reality. He shook his head, apologizing quickly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I was somewhere else. What did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. I was asking you where you met Richie as well. He didn’t go out much, back then…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hesitated for a second, before he decided to keep some details to himself, not wanting to spill the beans about his health, if Ben wasn’t aware of it all:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, I was running, and I pushed myself a bit too far. Richie happened to be there, and he helped me stay on my feet and get back home. Since then, we started to run together every morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he was thinking about it, Eddie wondered why Richie left his flat that day. Just like Ben said, he didn’t seem to venture into the outside world much, since his husband died. But he did so, and Richie and Eddie got to meet each other. He made him feel alive, in a way Eddie had never experienced yet. Whatever drove him to leave his flat, Eddie was glad that it happened. That he got to meet Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never pictured Richie as a runner. Not even before Steve…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben stopped himself for a second, before he seemed to remember that Richie wasn’t around to hear him. Eddie guessed that they didn’t throw the words “Steve” and “death” together very often when Richie was nearby. Richie could barely get himself to say it, and seemed pretty much in denial most of the time, so he probably couldn’t bear it, coming from his friends…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, before he died. Richie wasn’t really into sports. Unless he was playing them on his console.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiled, thinking back to the first time they ran together. Richie didn’t even eat a full breakfast, for fuck’s sake! And his attire… Yeah, no, he definitely wasn’t a runner, before he decided to accompany Eddie. It was pure luck that he didn’t pass out that day…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not naturally good, but then again, I think no one really is. But now, he can keep up pretty easily with me, and he’s not about to puke his lungs when we stop running, so that’s a good thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben chuckled at the idea, and Eddie did as well. Once they started talking, it was pretty easy to keep the discussion going. Eddie could definitely picture himself spending more time with Ben. Well, if he wished to do so, of course. Eddie didn’t want him to feel forced to hang out with him, only because he was friends with Richie. If he was lucky enough, Myra wouldn’t be able to ruin this relationship as well…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he was thinking about her again. Eddie tried his best to focus on Ben, listening to the way he talked so passionately about his work and his new project, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Myra knew where he was, he left her a note while fleeing, but she hadn’t come yet. Why? The whole thing was making him paranoiac. He didn’t have his phone anymore to check if she was still calling him. What if something happened to her? Or maybe she decided she had enough of him and the burden he represented for her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know how he would feel, if that was really the case. He couldn’t remember what life was like, without Myra. Even before he met her, he had his mother doting on him, keeping him “safe”, away from pretty much everything and everyone. What would happen, if he didn’t have her around? The idea seemed as enticing as scary, and Eddie didn’t know what to make of it. The simple fact that he was thinking about leaving her permanently was enough to make him anxious…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. He married her. He promised her that he would remain by her side until his death. And yet, what was he thinking about? After everything she did for him… Eddie couldn’t help, but feel incredibly ungrateful. Maybe she was too overbearing, perhaps she had this tendency to talk too much about his health to everyone, but she only wanted the best for him, right? Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she was testing him? Waiting to see what he would do? Or perhaps she knew that he would have to come back, at some point… If only to get more medicine. What he had could last him a few days, but not much else. And he didn’t have his prescription with him to refill it. He should probably see his doctor or go to the hospital to get a new one, but he never did it on his own. Without her. Without his mother. And it was terrifying to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben put his hand on his shoulder gently, trying to bring him back to earth. Eddie didn’t realize it until now, but he was shaking, his whole body expressing his anxiety quite intensively. He forced himself to breathe slowly, putting his hand on his chest. His hearts were beating fast, but nothing too alarming. It was frustrating to have to worry about that so often… Eddie knew he should be grateful to have this second chance, and he was, but he wished he could have just one day during which he wouldn’t have to think about his health for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the food he was eating, to the amount of physical exercise he would allow himself to accomplish, as well as the numerous times he was checking himself in the mirror, trying to see if there was any sign of a possible heart failure, Eddie couldn’t just relax. Everything reminded him constantly that he was sick, and that his life was likely to end before it should. He was already lucky he got the years he had, but it still didn’t feel enough for him. Especially now that he met Richie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I… I can see that you’re upset, and even though I don’t know why, you can talk to me. I might be able to help. And I promise I won’t judge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile was so gentle, so kind. Eddie wanted to be hugged by his strong arms, forget for a little while how fleeting his life was, how anxious everything made him feel, but he held himself back, slightly ashamed to be so close to breaking down in front of a total stranger. Ben was a nice guy, but even he would be weirded out if Eddie threw himself at him and launched himself into the sob story that was his life. And Eddie didn’t want to ruin his chances of a possible friendship so quickly… Not after his disastrous attempt with Bill and Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… It’s okay, nothing important. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m pretty tired, so that’s probably why I’m completely out of it. Sorry, that must be quite annoying…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t entirely lying. He kept his eyes wide open during most of the night, curled up on the pullout couch, unable to stop himself from thinking about his wife, how much everything inside him was screaming at him to go back home, to go back to her. How shitty he was for not answering her calls and her texts, going as far as drowning his phone to make sure he wouldn’t be able to reach her out…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been so anxious that he started to have a panic attack, retreating in the bathroom so that Richie wouldn’t have to witness his pitiful state. Eddie had been craving for his inhaler, but he knew very well that he never needed it in the first place. That he wasn’t asthmatic and that it wouldn’t help at all. He just needed to calm down… It took him some time, and, when he came back, Richie was there, welcoming him with a tea, some biscuits, and a rom-com to watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t try to get him to talk about what happened, about Myra, his complicated feelings… He understood that Eddie needed to leave that behind for a while, and he helped however he could. Eddie fell asleep way later, his head resting on Richie’s shoulder, in an awkward and uncomfortable position. And yet, he had never felt as safe as he did, curled up against his friend, away for a while from everything that tormented him. Protected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s hearts were beating a little quicker, thinking about this night. He awoke with a slight pain in his neck, but Eddie didn’t regret any of it. He would exchange his comfy bed in a heartbeat, if it meant he could sleep like that every night. Feeling safe and appreciated. With Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden thought perplexed him, and Eddie chased it away rather than focusing more on the topic, as he tended to do whenever he was about to realize something that he wasn’t quite ready to deal with. He just felt good with Richie, with his friend… What was wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yet, he couldn’t help, but feel weirdly guilty about it. He didn’t even know why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long silence started to stretch between them. Eddie was starting to think about a possible topic for them to talk about, or maybe a film to watch, when the doorbell rang. Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird… Did Richie forget his keys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so. And I reckon his meeting with Beverly should take more time than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A visitor? Maybe it was Patty. Or Stan, her husband Eddie didn’t meet yet. Ben went to open the door, and Eddie froze when he heard the voice coming from the outside, a voice he couldn’t mistake for anyone else’s:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie bear, where are you? Who is this man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s breath got stuck in his throat. His hands let go of the mug he was holding, the object breaking into pieces on the floor. His body reacted before his brain could catch up with it, and Eddie ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His legs shaking too much to handle his weight any longer, Eddie curled up on the floor, wheezing, trembling. He wasn’t ready… Not now! Not so early!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra must have managed to get past Ben, because Eddie soon heard her banging the door, calling out to him desperately:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, open the door! Do you know how dangerous it is for you to lock yourself like that? What if you had a heart attack? I wouldn’t be able to do a thing to save you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was it. Even if Ben didn’t know about it before, he was now aware of Eddie’s condition. And, surely, he was going to make sure that he was safe, right? He was going to help her in, and encourage Eddie to go back, because he was sick, because he was fragile, because he needed his wife… Eddie whined, covering his ears uselessly with his hands, unable to block sound completely. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being so childish and open this door, Eddie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s voice was so frail that he doubted she was able to hear him. He didn’t sound like an adult trying to assert himself, far from it. Eddie was back to the little kid he used to be, unable to tell off his mother, unable to fend for himself, keeping the horrible truth hidden rather than confronting his mom about it. If he talked back then, things would be different. He wouldn’t be the meek man he was now, cowering under his wife’s worry and anger, fighting desperately against himself so that he wouldn’t open this damn door and run back to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t want to see you, ma’am, I think you should back off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben’s voice was calm and unwavering. Eddie choked a little, holding back a sob. Ben… Ben was defending him? Really?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie doesn’t know what’s good for him, that’s why I’m here! Eddie bear, open this door right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rattled the doorknob uselessly, furiously, and Eddie hugged his knees against his chest tightly, unable to move or to think clearly. He wasn’t even sure he could breathe properly at the moment… A few minutes earlier, Eddie wondered what he should do, and if he should go back to his wife. But, right now, he was absolutely sure of one thing: he didn’t want to go back. Not now. And… And maybe, not ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did that make him a bad man? Maybe, yes. After everything Myra did for him, sacrificing so much of her life to make sure he would remain in good condition… But Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to go back to his cage, the prison he had lived in for so many years, too many years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to keep spending time with Richie and his friends. He wanted to watch stupid movies and rant about everything he could think of, without having to apologize for being “too much”, for taking too much space. He wanted to keep running with Richie every day, taking care of his friend as much as he was caring for him. He… He wanted to be free. Happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t he have that? Why shouldn’t he have that? He wanted to say all of those things to Myra, but his throat was tightly closed, and he knew he would only cry and sob if he tried to say a thing. So, he remained silent, curled up in the corner of the bathroom, waiting for whatever was supposed to happen. Would Ben cave in and help her in? Would Myra finally leave? Did he only want her to do so? Why was everything so complicated?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie closed his eyes, trying to keep himself away from everything else. He didn’t want to hear Myra telling him off for not answering her constant calls and texts. He felt guilty that Ben was fighting his battles, when they barely knew each other and, Eddie was aware of it, he was probably too shy and kind to really be at ease with trying to chase away Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t be able to get her to leave. She was going to do something drastic to get Eddie out. Maybe she’d pretend that Ben attacked her, or that Eddie was dying, anything to alert the people around them, and get them to call 911. Who would they listen to, then? Eddie’s wife, that he wouldn’t be able to badmouth, or the random man who was staying in an apartment that wasn’t even his?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let out a long, heavy sigh, and did his best to stand up on his feet, wobbling towards the door. He was about to open it, his heart crushing while putting his hand on the doorknob, when he suddenly heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice. And he knew that everything would be okay, somehow. Because he was here. Because Richie was back, behind the door. And he wouldn’t let Myra take him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let go of the doorknob, sticking his ear against the door. Richie was furious, screaming at Myra that she wasn’t welcome here, and that she should better leave before he called the cops on her. Beverly let her know that she was already dialing the number, and Myra understood that she had to cave in, now that Richie was back. He would be able to explain that Eddie was here from his own volition, that Myra trespassed his property while he was away, and that he tried to get her to leave, to no avail. She wouldn’t have the upper hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still tried to argue, pleading Eddie to come with her, that she was worried sick about his health, but Richie stayed firm and unyielding. Eddie was about to give up before he arrived, but now that his friend was here, he didn’t feel obligated to leave anymore. He was welcome here. Richie wanted him to stay, and that was all Eddie needed to know to shut up the voices in his head. He could stay here. He didn’t have to go. He didn’t have to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not over, Richard! Eddie will come back to me, whether you like it or not! I’m his wife!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed so sure of her, so much that Eddie was scared that she was right. How would he be able to stay away from her indefinitely? She took care of him for so long, and his mother before her, that Eddie barely knew how to do so himself. Richie had enough on his plate to not have to care for a grown man like Eddie, and he didn’t want to put this burden on Beverly or Ben either. Still… If only for a few days… Could he allow himself to get away from his life? Even if it was just temporarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entrance door was slammed, and Eddie knew that Myra left. He finally found himself able to breathe, his hand back on the doorknob. He still needed Richie to ask him gently to open, before he managed to do so. Eddie was greeted by Richie and his friends, their concerned expression soon turning into a smile, reassuring, welcoming… loving. Eddie finally felt tears rolling down his cheeks, and he threw himself in Richie’s arms, hugging him desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shushed him softly, helping him to the couch when he noticed that Eddie wouldn’t be able to stand on his legs any longer. Eddie didn’t let go of him one second, burying his face in Richie’s chest, feeling incredibly vulnerable and, yet, safe in his friend’s arms. Protected. Eddie knew that he was pathetic, but he couldn’t stop himself from crying, and he didn’t want Richie to move away from him. He needed him. God, he needed him so much right now!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie barely noticed that Beverly and Ben left, after Richie let them know quietly that he was handling it. To be honest, he felt better, knowing they weren’t there anymore to witness his breakdown. What were they thinking of him, after that? Instead of confronting his problems, Eddie locked himself in the bathroom, like some kid trying to avoid punishment, and he was now crying and sobbing in Richie’s arms, unable to calm himself down. They knew he was sick. They knew that he was a coward, and that he couldn’t stand up to his wife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie saw all of that too, and yet, he was still here. He wasn’t trying to get Eddie to back off or showing in any way that he wasn’t at ease with the situation. No, he just kept caressing Eddie’s hair, so gently, so tenderly, that Eddie could feel himself melting under his touch. After a little while, Eddie sniffled, managing to articulate with a weak voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wiped his tears, smiling reassuringly. He shook his head slightly, going back to caressing Eddie’s hair:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. It’s alright. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N… No, it’s not. I… I should…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shushed him, getting Eddie to glance up and look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You “shouldn’t” do anything, Eds. Aside from getting a good rest. You must be exhausted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was. He truly was, but he didn’t want to inconvenience Richie any further. Eddie wasn’t sure what Myra could do, but he was convinced that she would be able to find a way to hurt Richie, for daring to take Eddie away from her, and he didn’t want that to happen. And Eddie didn’t know what Richie did with Beverly, but he probably didn’t need to spend any more of his energy trying to dry his tears. Richie should be taking care of himself, but he… he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie winced when Richie flicked his forehead, sniffling once again. He didn’t even have the strength to protest…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry your pretty little head about me or whatever’s going on in your mind, Eddie Spaghetti. You know what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna lie down on the couch, I’ll cover you with my fluffiest blanket, and you’re going to fall asleep while watching the stupidest movie I can find for us to watch. It’s gonna be okay. Alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie could almost believe him. He could almost believe that everything was really going to be okay. Almost was better than nothing, for sure… So, even though he wanted to keep Richie close, Eddie agreed to let him go for a little while, so that he would put everything into place. Quickly enough, Eddie was covered with a blanket (that was, indeed, really fluffy), and his head rested on Richie’s knees, while he was turning on the TV, settling for the movie “Rubber”, about a killer tire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie suspected that Richie picked it up only because he knew that the premise alone would be enough to rile him up. And, of course, Eddie found himself ranting about how absurd and stupid this whole movie was, Richie laughing at his angry speech, teasing him here and there to get him to complain even more. For a little while, Eddie forgot about his wife, his health, how lost he was, only focusing on the fingers caressing his hair and the movie he was watching with Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, Eddie found himself reaching for Richie’s free hand, grabbing it, squeezing it firmly. Richie didn’t let go. He didn’t say a thing about it either, and Eddie couldn’t thank him enough for that. Richie’s hand in his made him feel safe. Protected. Appreciated. And even… loved.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, it could have gone a lot worse... Probably better, but Eddie isn't ready yet to really confront his wife. He finds strength in Richie, but it's still complicated, and he needs to be able to rely on himself as well. His feelings towards Richie are starting to shift quite seriously, but he isn't ready to confront that yet either. Just like Richie runs away from his grief, Eddie flees from his feelings and his past, even though he knows he'll have to confront it all one day or another.</p><p>It was really interesting to write. For a while, I wondered if Eddie would go back with Myra or not, but in the end, I decided against it. I hope you liked it c:. </p><p>Thank you for your support. Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone!</p><p>I hope you're doing okay. I'm enjoying my last few days of vacation, before going back to my hectic job. I just hope it's gonna be alright, they decided to change everything without consulting us, and it's not good for my autistic ass... Anyway, I'll try to handle it. </p><p>For those who were worried about my wisdom tooth, they didn't have to extract it, after all, so I got anxious over nothing xD. It's a relief, but still...</p><p>Thank you all for your support! I hope you'll like this chapter. Here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for internalized homophobia<br/>TW for mention of abuse<br/>TW for emetophobia<br/>TW for mention of infantilization</p><p>I think that's all! Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie’s flat seemed livelier, now that Eddie was sharing it with him. He didn’t know how long this arrangement would last (he kinda hoped that it wouldn’t have an expiration date), but he found himself enjoying it a whole lot. Waking up with someone by his side was something he didn’t get to properly appreciate since Steve…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie took a deep breath, trying to put some order into his messed-up brain. A part of him was already supplying the end of this sentence, but another part didn’t even want to think about it. He couldn’t tell if he was making a step forward or backward, but he definitely felt stuck. Unable to move on. But, thankfully, he had something else to focus on. Someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie needed him. That much was obvious. Richie was starting to realize how much Eddie relied on Myra during his day-to-day life, and it was almost scary, in some way. How he kept seeking Richie’s approval about pretty much everything, from the way he was dressed to the pills he was taking… Was Myra scrutinizing him that much daily? Richie couldn’t help, but shiver at the idea. He couldn’t be a new Myra for Eddie. He didn’t want to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was pretty hard to know what to do, in such a sensitive situation. Eddie found himself overwhelmed by the smallest things, and Richie had the feeling that he was apologizing for existing more than the “mistakes” he thought he was making. He kept checking on Richie, asking him if it was okay for him to take a bath, grab a snack, turn on the TV… At some point, Richie couldn’t take it anymore, and he sat Eddie down, trying to get him to relax a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, it’s your flat too, as long as you want it to be. You… You don’t have to ask to do any single thing here. If you want to take a bath, go for it. Gorge yourself on snacks and whatever, I’ll probably follow you on that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie barely dared to look at him, his fingers playing nervously with a loose thread on his sweatshirt. Richie didn’t know what to do to get his friend back the way he was always whenever they were hanging out together. It seemed that, ever since Myra came there and it was established that Eddie would live in his flat, his friend felt that he had to behave a certain way, in order to satisfy Richie, to be worthy of the space he was occupying. And it was heartbreaking to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie held back a sigh, rising Eddie’s face gently, so that he would focus on him rather than on the thoughts that were obsessing him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not testing you, Eds. I’m not that kind of asshole. I trust you, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bit his bottom lip, before finally admitting, blushing despite himself:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you being here, actually. This flat doesn’t seem as empty and sad as it usually is when you’re not around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to ruin things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie forced his head down again, visibly overwhelmed by the simple idea of making eye contact with Richie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> apartment, Richie. What if… What if I break some unspoken rule or whatnot, and you can’t stand me being here anymore? What if you need to be on your own for a moment, and I don’t get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s voice was rising slightly, clearly panicking at the idea that he might upset Richie in any way. That wasn’t how he intended this conversation to go. Richie took a second to think about his words, not wanting to make things even worse, before he finally said:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no unspoken rule, I swear. There’s only one room that is off-bounds, and I already told you about it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, asking with a hint of doubt in his voice, as if he could get it wrong:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your… Your room, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Steve’s. It’s not just mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie still didn’t manage to enter their bedroom, after all this time. He and Eddie were sharing the pullout couch, and they were storing their stuff in Richie’s office, where he used to write his skits and work, when he still had the energy to do so. Maybe he should give it a try… His friends handled his company for too long, now, and Richie didn’t want to keep being a burden on them. Even if he couldn’t picture himself working at all, not without Steve by his side…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the only rule, and it’s not unspoken. And I trust you on that, Eddie. I trust you fully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than that, Richie was down with Eddie treating his flat as if it was theirs. Hogging the bathroom, arguing about what they should watch on TV, fighting over the remote… There was something incredibly domestic about all of this, that Richie was strangely craving, but it wouldn’t happen as long as Eddie kept thinking that he was going to lose him over the most minor things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded again, but he didn’t seem entirely convinced. Richie couldn’t really blame him. From what he gathered, Eddie’s mother treated him pretty much like his wife, and he never knew anything else than this anxious environment, where he had to second-guess everything to avoid any trouble. Richie was sure that Eddie had tons of rules to follow when he was living with Myra, and that some of them probably changed, depending on his wife’s mood. It was textbook abuse, but Richie knew that Eddie wasn’t ready to recognize it as such… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, all he could do was to ensure that Eddie was happy and enjoying this new life, no matter how long it would last. Perhaps he would come to this realization himself, once he’d settle here properly. Richie could only hope that it would be the case, anyway. Eddie deserved so much more than the cards Life dealt him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I promise to talk to you openly if I ever feel upset about anything, alright? No lies, no pretending, nothing like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie felt awful saying those words, knowing how much he was keeping from Eddie. But it was only temporary. He would tell him. Later. But it wasn’t the right time. Eddie wasn’t ready. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t ready. Setting his coffee mug on the table, Richie fiddled with his glasses, glancing at Eddie with a thoughtful gaze:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I think we should get you a phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked at him with bewilderment, before he snickered, crossing his arms:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the one who drowned it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, Eds, you opened your hand and dumped it into the sink. I merely encouraged you to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes, while Richie found himself chuckling. That was the Eddie he was looking for! Fiery, rude, unafraid to give Richie a peace of his mind… He just had to make sure to keep things that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More seriously, you’re gonna need that, at some point. You have to be able to call your workplace, your doctor, your friends…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have friends to call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie felt his heart tightening in his chest at the impulsive answer. Eddie noticed it right away, and his eyes widened, while he profusely apologized:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… You’re here with me, so I don’t have to call you! I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. Think of me as your sexy landlord, if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie winked at him, trying to ignore the aching feeling that plagued him at Eddie’s words. He didn’t mean it. No, he didn’t, right? Eddie didn’t take the bait, and apologized once again, twisting his fingers painfully:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry, Richie. I… You mean a lot to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie should reciprocate the feeling, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t help, but think that he would betray Steve in some way, if he admitted that out loud. How much Eddie meant for him, right now. Instead, he forced a smile on his lips, patting Eddie’s shoulder:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t twist your panties over this, Eddie Spaghetti! But, seriously, you could really use a phone. With Myra’s number blocked, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed, curling up slightly on himself. God, he seemed so vulnerable… Richie had no idea what to do to convince him that he was stronger than that. Stronger than the person Myra and his mother tried to make of him. Stronger than he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is… Is it bad that I kinda want to call her? I… uh… I feel like I’m doing something really wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wasn’t armed to deal with that kind of situation. Eddie needed a therapist, someone who could get him out of his thought patterns and his wife’s influence. That was a discussion for later, when Eddie would feel more relaxed, more trusting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could definitely picture him getting angry at the suggestion, as if it could mean that Richie thought that he was broken or crazy or whatever idea Eddie had about therapy. He doubted that either Myra or his mother encouraged him in any way to talk to a professional… Not without risking losing him in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… It’s not bad per se, Eddie, but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now. You need rest, away from her, away from everything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, it’s just… I never did that, you know? I never…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie always answered Myra’s calls, Richie was sure of it. Even if it meant stopping to do something he enjoyed, interrupting his work, his jogging session… He always put her first, and Myra knew it very well. She knew how easily she could manipulate him, and that’s probably why she was convinced that he would come back to her real soon. Richie would do his best to ensure that Eddie would only do what he wanted to, not what any of them expected from him… Even Richie himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Messing Eddie’s hair, smiling when his friend grumbled and attempted to comb it with his fingers, Richie focused back on the topic they were first talking about, so that Eddie wouldn’t have to keep thinking about Myra:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need a phone. Some new clothes, maybe. In fact, I think we should just book a shopping trip for this afternoon. You’re up for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie needed to be kept busy, so that he wouldn’t linger on his obsessive thoughts too much. And what better way to get him away from his wife’s influence than to get him to make some choices for himself? A phone, some clothes, whatever he wanted to get, Richie would be happy to tag along and follow him wherever he wished to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t answer right away, glancing at his sweatshirt, before he asked with a worried voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grimaced. There wasn’t anything bad to say about it, really, it was pretty ordinary. But Richie had the nagging feeling that Myra bought most of Eddie’s outfits for him, and that he never really had a say in it. In anything, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, Eds. To be perfectly honest with you, I just want to go full Pretty Woman on your ass, and get to watch you try tons of clothes while I’ll be there, gawking and squealing in front of literal perfection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gave him the middle finger, and Richie laughed, patting his shoulder:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, we can’t just stay cooped up here watching shitty movies all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He added, a mischievous smile on his lips:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s this juice bar at the mall, super healthy shit. Do you want to say no to organic juice, Eds? I’ll even get some for myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was the tipping point, the last thing Eddie needed to hear to accept to leave Richie’s flat. He couldn’t resist this kind of stuff, after all. And Richie wanted him to have a good time, in every possible way. Eddie had been staying with him for two days straight, and he hadn’t left the flat yet, not even for their running session. Richie had trouble believing that he was the one trying to convince Eddie to get out, after he himself spent so much time away from the world, away from reality…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. But I’ll pay for the juices. And whatever I’m getting for myself. You’re not providing for me, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie exaggeratedly pouted at Eddie’s words, not missing a beat:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I can’t be your Sugar Daddy, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re the same age, asshole! And no, you definitely can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his annoyed tone, Eddie was smirking, unable to stop his lips from stretching into a smile. Richie missed their banter. It was a strange dynamic, for sure, but they had real fun teasing each other endlessly, ever since they first met. Richie could only hope that it would last. Even when he’d tell the truth to him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chased this unpleasant thought away, grabbing their mugs to wash them thoroughly, while Eddie was getting ready to leave. Richie glanced at him quickly, while his friend was ordering his meds, grabbing the pills he would or could need, filling his bag with a water bottle and some cereal bars. He definitely seemed nervous, and Richie didn’t know if he should attempt to reassure him, or if it would only make things worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he couldn’t make himself comfortable in Richie’s apartment yet, it was still a refuge for him. A place where Myra couldn’t get to him. But outside? She could be anywhere. She could follow him. What if they crossed paths? What would she say? How would he react? Richie understood Eddie’s anxiety, but he knew very well that staying in wasn’t the right call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie needed to feel free. And he wouldn’t, not as long as he didn’t allow himself to go out whenever he wanted to. For now, Richie was keeping him company, but he hoped that Eddie would feel less hesitant later to get out by himself. Eddie needed to be able to stand on his own, as much as Richie loved spending time with him. He had to understand that he could do it. That he wasn’t as weak or vulnerable as he thought he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was about to open the entrance door when Eddie nervously grabbed his arm, his fingernails almost scratching the skin. Richie raised an eyebrow, confused, before his brain caught up with the situation and realized what he should do to ease Eddie’s anxiety, if only slightly. Looking ostensibly through the peephole, he then turned towards Eddie to reassure him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one’s there. We’re clear to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed deeply, relaxing his grasp on Richie’s arm slightly. Richie noticed that he didn’t let it go completely, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Eddie doubted himself enough, he didn’t need Richie to make things even worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must think I’m ridiculous…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shook his head, playing with his car keys:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. In fact, I think you’re pretty brave, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie definitely didn’t expect him to say those words, Richie was sure of that. His lips parted slightly, his face expressing surprise as well as disbelief, before he finally managed to say:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brave? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really. What happened with Myra previously, that was some fucking heavy stuff. And look at you, you’re already going out! If that’s not bravery, then I don’t know what it is! You know it took me months to leave my flat after… after…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s voice trailed off, unable to complete this sentence out loud. His throat closed up, and when Eddie pressed his arm this time, it was quite obvious that his friend wasn’t trying to reassure himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can talk about that whenever you want, you know? I’m… I’m here for you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nodded quietly, lowering his gaze down. He knew that Eddie was willing to help. He was aware that he needed to talk about Steve. To accept that he should rely on his friends more. But now wasn’t the moment. Now, he was supposed to be the one lifting Eddie up, not the other way around. He forced a smile on his lips, pointing at his car with a smug expression on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to board in my pretentious carriage, Eds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather take the subway.” Eddie smiled, but the thought was enough to get him to shiver with disgust. “Maybe not. Your jerk car will do the trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for your generosity, my liege. Onboard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t very far away, but Richie was pretty sure that Eddie would get anxious if they walked to get to the mall, fearing that Myra might be around and follow them. Turning on the radio, Richie sang all the way to their destination, beaming up when he got Eddie to accompany him after a little while. They were laughing when they arrived, Eddie’s snorting chuckle being the best sound Richie had heard lately. If only he could get him to laugh like that all the time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, they needed to get that phone. Eddie needed to be able to call his medical team whenever he had to, and he shouldn’t rely on Richie to do that for him. As much as he tried to be there for his friend, he was pretty clueless when it came to Eddie’s health issues, and he didn’t feel up to the task. Besides, Eddie needed to be able to rely on himself, rather than putting that entirely on Richie, as he was used to with Myra and his mother…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even if Eddie seemed to think that he didn’t have any friends to call, Richie remained convinced that he should try to get a hold of Bill and Mike. Eddie had been so enthusiastic about them... Richie couldn’t believe that they would be put off because Myra revealed to them some details about Eddie’s health that he’d rather not talk about. Aside from him, they were the only friends Eddie managed to make on his own. He deserved to have a second shot, without Myra around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie would feel better, knowing that Eddie had other people to rely on, besides himself. At some point, he’ll have to tell him the truth, and Eddie will make his choice. Richie didn’t want him to be alone, if he really didn’t want to see him ever again. If he had Bill and Mike, then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie raised his head, chasing his negative thoughts away. He focused back on the situation, glancing at the phone Eddie was holding. He seemed to wait for his approval, but Richie didn’t want to encourage this habit, to make Eddie think that he needed Richie to give him the thumbs up before doing anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked at the phone, then Richie, then the phone, seemingly unable to answer at the moment. The object was sturdy, definitely built more for practicality than technological prowess. Richie remained silent on the subject, but it seemed to be perfect for Eddie. It would last long. And it wouldn’t be broken so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a few minutes before Eddie was finally able to articulate, with a hesitating tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think so, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was scared to say the wrong thing, to assume a role he shouldn’t have in Eddie’s life, but thankfully, his friend finally decided on his own to pay for it, marveling at the object. Witnessing Eddie’s awed expression, Richie wondered how many times his friend had the opportunity to buy something for himself, just because he wanted it, without any influence. It was heartbreaking to think about… And yet, Richie found himself smiling at his friend’s wonder, while he was configuring his new phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, I have every important number memorized! And I… uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glanced behind him, as if someone was listening to them, before he admitted with a barely audible voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I blocked Myra’s number. She… There’s no way she knows I have this new phone, but better safe than sorry, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie patted his friend’s shoulder with a smile, and Eddie beamed up, adding with a smile:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put your phone number into it, of course! First thing I did, actually. You… You don’t mind me calling you, right? I mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Eddie was anticipating every possible issue. He knew that Richie had trouble using his own phone to call anyone, unable for so long to convince himself to hear anything other than his husband’s voice coming from the object, scared to erase his precious voicemail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he still called Eddie as soon as he asked him for help and, Richie knew it, it was time for him to start to take a few steps forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No worries, Eds. You call, I answer, that’s how it works. Never hesitate, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded thoughtfully, clutching to the phone as if it was his lifeline. He didn’t seem scared of the object, as he was previously. Eddie had control over it now. It wouldn’t blow up with Myra’s texts and calls whenever he was doing something she didn’t have a say in it. He didn’t have to worry about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they entered the clothing store Richie picked for them (one step at a time, no need to stress out Eddie more than he already was), he realized that it would be way more difficult than he anticipated it. Eddie froze like a deer caught in the headlights, his hand searching reflexively for Richie’s. Richie felt unable to breathe for a second before realizing that Eddie was most likely acting as Myra was expecting him to. She probably led him everywhere, hand in hand, not caring a second about where Eddie would like to go, what he would like to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds? You’re okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t, but Richie still felt the need to ask, if only to get him to vocalize his anxiety. Eddie took a deep breath, glancing around him with a lost gaze, before he admitted shamefully:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh… I don’t know where I should start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s voice was almost childish, his stance so different from the man Richie was used to. He was trying to make himself smaller than he already was, feeling threatened by this place he probably never wandered in without Myra by his side. He didn’t even seem to realize that he grabbed Richie’s hand and was currently squeezing it, too scared to notice the few glances people were giving them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie felt some of his old doubts creeping back, but he quickly focused on Eddie to shut them up, directing his face so that he would only look at him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so, stop me if I’m wrong, alright? You never bought your clothes on your own, is that true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie seemed reluctant to admit it, but he finally nodded, biting on his bottom lip:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Never. I order online with Myra or she… I follow her to the store. She picks them for me. She… She knows best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed so resigned, as if he truly believed that his wife knew better what was good for him. Richie hadn’t been there for the whole time Myra tried to get Eddie back, but Ben recounted to him what happened, and how she kept saying that Eddie needed her. That he didn’t know what was good for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck… How much did she and Eddie’s mother brainwash him? It would take way more than one shopping trip to snap Eddie out of this fucking mindset… Richie definitely didn’t have the tools and means to help him properly. Eddie needed psychological support. Someone who could get him to fully realize how wrongly his mother and his wife treated him. But until then, Richie had to try to be this person. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are no guidelines, no right or wrong way to do that, okay? We’re just gonna walk around the store. If you see something you like, you pick it up, try it on, and you decide if you want to keep it or not. Nothing more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t want to pick the wrong thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his doubts, Eddie started to walk into the store, still clutching Richie’s hand. He allowed it, knowing that his friend needed the support. As long as Eddie led the way, then it wasn’t something to worry about, right? Eddie wasn’t trying to get Richie to walk him everywhere, like a kid following his mom. He just needed the reassurance…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would she do, if you picked or did something she didn’t like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was choosing his words carefully, so that Eddie wouldn’t feel guilty about whatever instance he decided to talk about. He never picked anything “wrong”, he only tried to get things Myra didn’t approve of. And it wasn’t the same thing, far from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tensed for a second, before he focused on a pair of pants, caressing them nervously to keep himself busy. He didn’t look at Richie when he finally answered, visibly ashamed:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It depends. She might stop talking to me until I corrected my behavior or let go of what I wanted to have. She screamed sometimes. Telling me how ungrateful I am. That she was doing everything for me, and that I was only hurting her in return. I, uh, I think I preferred that to the silent treatment. At least, I knew exactly what I did wrong…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s heart ached for his friend. Eddie didn’t seem to realize how fucked up it was, this whole situation. On the contrary, he felt ashamed because he was convinced that he needed Myra to act like that with him. That he deserved it. A part of him wanted to hug Eddie tightly, to chase away the doubts plaguing him so wrongly, but Richie couldn’t get himself to do it, not when people could see them. Eddie’s hand in his was already so much… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost laughable how quickly his old demons came back, now that he didn’t have Steve to tell them off. Richie felt terrified by people’s judgmental stares, the way they could perceive them, him and Eddie. It was getting harder to brush it off and focus on his friend, when his mind kept wondering if people were thinking of them as a couple. If they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> by this idea…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shook his head. Eddie came first. He needed him right now. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to reassure him, even though he wasn’t sure what he was doing:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it’s on you, Eds. Myra, she… She wants you to act a certain way, because she thinks that’s how you should be, but she doesn’t care if that’s not what you want, if it makes you unhappy. Your health, it’s a way for her to try to control you, to keep you to herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, as a result, Eddie was now terrified to walk on his own, to make his choices, to act in any way that could displease Myra. For every step forward, it was so quick for him to take a step backward, to bury himself in his doubts and in his anxiety… Just like Richie. But he was stronger than that. They were stronger than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you know better, Eds. You knew that running was good for you, so you kept doing it, even if she tried to change your mind. You wanted to celebrate your healthy heart with me, so you came to my flat to spend the night, even though she was against it. And you had a good time. We had a good time. And now, you’re here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes were filling up with tears. He wiped them quickly, while Richie added, squeezing his friend’s hand to show his support:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You picked a phone that you liked, not because you thought that Myra or I would appreciate it, but because you knew that’s what you wanted. And now, you’re going to choose clothes because they suit you, because you appreciate them. And whatever you pick, it’ll be the right choice, because it’s yours to make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ruffled Eddie’s hair. This time, his friend didn’t try to comb it back to the way it used to be. Instead, he nodded silently, attempting to smile, while Richie reassured him once again:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it took them quite some time, before Eddie finally managed to convince himself to grab a pair of pants and a shirt. Richie guided him to the fitting room, waiting for him to try them on. He would lie if he pretended that the whole thing wasn’t making him anxious. If Eddie didn’t like what he saw in the mirror, what would it mean for his self-esteem? For the progress he was making?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, can you come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stood up from his chair immediately, joining Eddie in the cramped space. For a second, he found himself unable to say a single word, staring at his friend. Eddie was usually wearing thick clothes, perhaps slightly too big (except when he was wearing his tailored suits for his job). But this outfit that he picked was nothing like that. It was simple, and yet, showing off his muscles, his clear skin, everything that Richie hadn’t been able to quite notice until then, and that he was now staring at, speechless, floored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glanced at his friend, then at his reflection in the mirror, whispering hesitantly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I like it. I think I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nodded silently, unable to say a thing. The air was finally knocked out of his lungs when Eddie hugged him, burying his face in Richie’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Thank you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was left in a daze for the rest of the shopping trip, barely saying a few words, looking at Eddie as if he was truly seeing him for the first time. Eddie didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the number of things he was accomplishing on his own and how proud of himself he finally felt. He let go of Richie’s hand at some point, and Richie caught himself chasing it, stopping himself at the last second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart was beating incredibly fast when they finally sat down at the juice bar Richie mentioned previously. His gaze was wandering on Eddie while his friend was ranting about whatever subject he decided to lash on. Richie couldn’t understand anything of his speech, his brain finally realizing what he had run away from for too long. He had to excuse himself, running to the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie just had the time to kneel and open the lid before he threw up, shaking, thoughts swirling in his mind freely, uncontrollable. Eddie showing off his body, Eddie’s hand in his, Eddie hugging him… His body was craving for his friend in a way he never thought would be possible, after Steve…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie let out a sob, covering his dirty mouth with his hand, while the truth hit him fully, unable to flee from it any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He… He loved Eddie. Richie loved Eddie. Like he loved Steve. Like he still loved his husband. He… He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t know who he was apologizing to. He was aware that Eddie might start to get worried, wondering what was taking him so long, but he couldn’t get up, he couldn’t go back to him, not when his fucked up heart was beating for him that way. Not when he just realized how much he loved him...</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, that's it, Richie finally admitted that he loves Eddie. And he's not ready for that. I'm not he would ever be ready for that, to be honest. Now, he needs to accept it, and it's not gonna be easy. There's Steve, and the secret he's hiding from Eddie, and it's just a mess... And he also knows that he needs Eddie to feel better in his skin, before he could even start to talk about that with him. </p><p>It's just a very, very complicated situation. But Eddie made a lot of progress in such a short time! I really wanted to portray the insidious abuse he's been a victim of, since he was young. How much it deprived him of his free will, how they tried to kept him from growing up and making his own choices... Richie is doing his best to help him out of that, but he's right, Eddie needs professional help. He just has to know how to talk about this sensitive subject to him...</p><p>Well, a lot happened in this chapter! I think we're getting slowly closer to the end of the story. We're after the middle of it, anyway. I can't wait to see what you thought about it!</p><p>Thank you for your support. Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay. I had troubles finding the energy and motivation to write lately, my daily life has been so overwhelming, it was hard to do a single thing when I came home from work. Thankfully, I think it's going to feel a bit better, little by little. </p><p>Thank you all for your support! It really helped those last few days, knowing that you were there, waiting for the next chapter and all c:. I hope you'll like this chapter!</p><p>Here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for mention of abuse<br/>TW for Munchausen syndrome by proxy<br/>TW for self-harm</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. He was merely wearing new clothes and, yet, he felt like he was someone else, a person he didn’t know yet, but that he was eager to discover. It was hard to believe how so little could change so much, and yet… Eddie gave a shy smile to his reflection, combing his hair. Maybe he didn’t comb it as neatly as he usually did. Maybe. And he kinda liked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life with Richie was incredibly soothing, compared to the one he used to have with Myra. Eddie didn’t have to second guess everything he did or said, he just had to be himself. And even though he wasn’t quite sure who he should be outside of his wife’s influence, he still appreciated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a little while to adjust completely, to be honest. Eddie had to realize fully that he didn’t have to ask permission to do anything, that he was free to come and go, and do as he pleased. It was so wildly different from the life he led until then, that Richie had to explicitly tell him so quite a few times for the message to get across. Even now, he still had his doubts sometimes, wondering if Richie would agree with the movie he was picking for their evening or his food choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew that it couldn’t last eternally, that he would have to go back to his wife at some point, and decide what to do about their shared life, but as of now, he intended to enjoy this newfound freedom as much as possible. It started with buying new clothes and a new phone, and Eddie couldn’t wait to see what would come next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As good as his situation was, not everything was perfect. Since their shopping trip, Richie experienced moments where he was strangely distant, as if he was trying to build a wall between them. Eddie asked him a few times if something was wrong, but Richie refused to answer, merely assuring him that it had nothing to do with him. It’s about Steve, he finally supplied after Eddie insisted, but that’s all he managed to get from him on the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know how to help. Maybe Richie wasn’t used to living with someone else anymore, and spending so much time with Eddie reminded him of Steve? Or perhaps they were right in the middle of a special time that he used to share with his husband, and he was obsessing over it, like he used to obsess over his voicemail. Like he still did, sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t say a thing about it, but he woke up a few times to hear Steve’s voice coming from Richie’s phone, while his friend was listening to the message left again and again. In any other circumstances, Eddie would have intervened, but something held him back. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to interrupt him, or even to let Richie know that he was also hearing Steve, this voice belonging to a man he never knew, but who was so important to his best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t good with this stuff. It was heavy, so heavy, and Richie shouldn’t have to support this burden on his own, but… but what could Eddie do about it? And there were also his own issues to deal with…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie still hadn’t booked an appointment with his doctor, and time was running out. If he kept on waiting, he wouldn’t have enough medicine, and he would be forced to go back to Myra, so that he could get his prescription. It shouldn’t be a difficult task, and yet, it was. Eddie felt overwhelmed by the simple idea of calling his physician to get an appointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never did so himself. At first, it was his mother who handled this stuff for him, then she reluctantly trusted Myra with this task, as if Eddie was totally unable to learn how to do it. His health was always between someone else’s hands, and it was now dizzying to think that he had to deal with it on his own. Richie was there, of course, but he honestly had no clue about what Eddie was going through, and he was pretty sure that he would encourage him to try it himself, if he asked him to help. Eddie didn’t want to have to admit his failure. For now, it was just easier to pretend that the problem didn’t exist. Eddie would cross that bridge when he’d get there… He hoped so, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was another matter: Bill and Mike. Their last encounter ended in a disaster, and Eddie was still cringing whenever he thought about it. Richie seemed confident that they still wanted to get to know him better, but Eddie wasn’t so sure. After the awful details Myra shared with them so freely, why would they like to spend any more time with him? They probably hoped that Eddie would never reach out to them anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, Eddie was currently holding his phone, his finger hovering hesitantly on the button that would allow him to give them a call. God, it was so nerve-wracking! Richie was meeting Beverly once again, and Eddie was on his own, trying to psych himself to contact his friends. It was easy… He just had to push this fucking button! And then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be awkward. They hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie whispered those words to himself, shaking his leg nervously. He couldn’t handle their rejection. Or, worse, to hear them trying to be polite, in this way that clearly showed they didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Maybe he should just wait for Richie to come back… Perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>could call them and make sure they were okay with Eddie first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head at the thought. Richie wasn’t Myra. He wasn’t supposed to handle every little thing for him. What he was already doing was more than enough, and Eddie knew better than to dump that responsibility onto him. Eddie Kaspbrak was a grown man, and he shouldn’t have to rely on his friend to get through his day-to-day life. He wouldn’t do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, on three…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie counted out loud, took a deep breath, and finally pushed this button. He secretly hoped that Mike wouldn’t pick up the phone, that he was busy, but it wasn’t the case. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the man’s voice, and he almost hung up, managing to stop himself from doing that at the last second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tried to introduce himself properly, but his nervousness got the best of him, and he fumbled his words, his voice slightly higher than it usually was:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, it’s Edwa… Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. Uh… It’s me, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Mike saved him from his embarrassment, his warm voice resonating against his eardrums:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, we were so worried! It’s so good to hear from you! Bill, it’s Eddie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth agape, Eddie found himself unable to say a single word, baffled by the man’s happy reaction. He definitely didn’t expect that… His throat tightened a bit, and Eddie started to struggle slightly with his breathing, attempting to get a hold of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it okay if I put you on speaker? Bill wants to talk to you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… I… Yes, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill wanted to talk to him. Mike wished for the same thing. For a second, Eddie wondered if he was dreaming. It was too perfect to be true, right? It had to be fake, somehow. No one ever got back to Eddie’s life, once they were gone… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We t-tried to call you, but it went stuh-straight to voicemail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myra didn’t want to talk to us. Well, she said to Bill that you weren’t there at the moment, but she didn’t even open the door for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t surprise Eddie in the slightest. She probably tried to guilt-trip them as well, even if Mike and Bill were too kind to let him know about that fact. She wouldn’t admit why Eddie left. Why he wanted to stay with Richie, at the moment. Why he hoped for time to stop, so that he would never have to face his problems again…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry I worried you. I broke my phone, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technically, he drowned it, but Eddie didn’t have to be that specific, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Eddie? Do you want to come here? We’ll be discreet and won’t tell a thing to Myra if you don’t want us to, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh… They were so nice. Why were they so kind to him? Eddie was struggling more and more to keep his emotions under control, and it was with a shaky voice that he answered:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s okay, I’m… I’m with a friend. Thank you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime, Eddie. You’re… You’re our fuh-friend, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could almost see Bill smiling, while he was saying those words. Eddie knew he should just be grateful that they didn’t want him out of their life, but he was unable to stop himself from asking them the question that could ruin anything, as if he had to destroy everything good in his life:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You still want to see me? After what Myra… After she told you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t even mention the subject. He didn’t want to speak about those things with anyone. It was private, embarrassing, things that happened because of his health issues and that he didn’t have control over. Eddie bit down his bottom lip, wondering if Mike and Bill would realize that, yes, they should stay away from him, and that, no, they didn’t want to see him anymore… Maybe they were just trying to be polite. Perhaps they were just waiting for him to realize how clingy he was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I’m really sorry our get-together happened the way it did.” Mike sighed. “We should have stopped Myra when she started to talk about this stuff. I could see that you weren’t at ease with it, and Bill too, but I guess I was too stunned to do anything about it. It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disgusting?” Eddie supplied this word, his hand clenched on his phone. “Repulsing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s not about you or your health. It’s… Myra shouldn’t have shared those things so carelessly. You’re aware of that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie silently nodded, even though neither Mike nor Bill could see him do so. He knew that it was private, that it was his right to talk about those things or not, and that Myra crossed the line too often when it came to his privacy. Still… What could he do about it? He didn’t even know how to start to talk about it with his wife, without risking hurting her in the process. He didn’t want to hear her cry or get angry at him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s p-private. And… And we barely know each other. I’m sorry we luh-learned about that without your consent. I hope we can still fix it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sniffled, his free hand wiping his teary eyes in a quick motion. He really thought he lost them, that day, after Myra thought it appropriate to share those details about him… It haunted him ever since, a reminder of his failure as a human being, unable to make friends and keep them. Richie… Richie was different. He was the one who came into his life and decided to be a part of it. Truthfully, Eddie wasn’t sure he really had a say about it at the time… But, for once, he didn’t mind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should start over. This time, you’ll truly get to enjoy Bill’s ratatouille. It’s delicious, really!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second chance… Eddie felt blessed. For a second, he wondered how long his happiness would last, but he quickly chased this thought away. For now, he should enjoy what he had. Freedom, Richie, Bill, Mike… He had to appreciate every minute of it. As long as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’d really love to, Mike. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hesitated, wondering if he should offer to come with Richie. He wasn’t sure his friend would be open to meet strangers so suddenly, and he didn’t want to push his luck with Bill and Mike. He sighed, and Bill misunderstood his reaction, asking with a hesitant voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M… Myra isn’t coming, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t even think about this possibility. His eyes wandered on his wedding ring, digging slightly into his skin. It was always a pain in the ass to take it off for his medical exams, as if the object was aware of its symbolism and refused to leave Eddie’s side for a second. It felt strangely constricting, in a way Eddie refused to acknowledge until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I think you need to talk about her. I don’t know if we’re the right people to do so, but… but she clearly went too far. And our walls are thin enough to know that it’s not the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie curled up on the couch, his heartbeat picking up, sweat rolling down his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to talk about her, Eddie? It’s okay if you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know. He didn’t know what he should do, what he wanted to do… He was so confused, lost in a whirlwind of emotions he was unable to understand. A part of him wanted to spill out the beans, but he wasn’t even sure what he could talk about. He couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment where Myra took it too far, because she trampled his privacy and his agency so much that he wasn’t even sure he had any, as of now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another part of him was still convinced that he needed her to treat him like that. To handle everything for him, make sure that he was taking his meds, drive him to every appointment, deciding for him what he should wear, what he could do, who he should meet… Thinking to do so himself for the rest of his life was a scary idea. As if Eddie was standing on a cliff-side, ready to fall down at the first mistake he would make…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we…” Eddie gulped, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie begged them, ready to do so again if they resisted, but they didn’t. Bill took it upon himself to talk about his little brother and the last cruise trip he was a part of. It seemed so incredible, working on a boat, being on the sea for so long, meeting all of those people only to let them go by the end of their trip… Eddie was almost jealous at the idea, unable to conceive such a life for himself. Not with his limitations, physical or mental. Not with how scared he constantly was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Georgie w-would love it if you booked a trip on his line, someday. He’ll do anything to m-make sure you’ll get the best out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tried to picture himself on a boat, and his mind instantly added Richie to the fantasy. He could definitely see his friend convincing him to be the Rose to his Jack, until someone yelled at them to get away from the bow of the ship. It was probably forbidden, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for him, his treacherous imagination supplied him the rest of the scene, right to the point where Rose kissed Jack. Eddie blushed deeply, shaking his head violently, immediately changing the subject to avoid thinking about it all any longer:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… And what about your library, Mike? I’d love to go there, someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Mike was more than willing to talk about his job, which he was obviously passionate about. For the rest of their conversation, Eddie mainly remained silent, listening to his friend’s soothing voice, while he was sharing with him every detail of his delightful mundane life, so far away from everything Eddie had ever known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would he get to talk so happily about his own existence, someday? About his work, his friends, his partner… He knew the answer to this question partly, though. As long as Myra remained the same, he would never be able to do so. He couldn’t talk about her the way either Bill or Mike did, when they mentioned their lover. Worst of all, Eddie wasn’t even sure he’d be as heartbroken as Richie was, whenever he thought about Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, he’d be sad, but he couldn’t help, but think that he’d be mostly anxious because he was scared to be on his own. Just like he was secretly relieved when his mother finally passed away, keeping their secrets with her. God, Eddie was truly the worst, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed this thought down, trying to enjoy the casual conversation he got to have with his neighbors on the phone. His friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Eddie opened his eyes, it didn’t take him long to notice that Richie wasn’t by his side anymore. He yawned sleepily, glancing around him. He was probably in the bathroom… He would come back in no time. Certainly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes passed, and yet, Richie still wasn’t there. The pullout couch felt incredibly empty, when his friend wasn’t sleeping in it with him. Eddie wasn’t used to it. He sat on the mattress, wondering what he should do. Richie was an insomniac, much more than Eddie, and he would often get himself something in the fridge, even if he wasn’t particularly hungry. It was just about keeping himself busy, waiting to be tired enough to pass out for the rest of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie would be able to see him from where he was, if it was the case, and he wasn’t. Richie wasn’t having a late midnight snack. Eddie started to have a feeling about where Richie could be, and he didn’t like it one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend was extremely distant when he came back from his meeting with Beverly, even more than in his worst moments so far. Eddie tried to get him to talk, to no avail. They finished their evening in front of the TV, watching a movie Eddie couldn’t remember a thing about, before Richie turned his back on him, sleeping. Or pretending to sleep, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Eddie should have been more insistent? He didn’t want to be another reason why Richie was so upset. It was too late to lament about that now, but he still could do something about it. Putting his feet on the floor, Eddie wandered into the flat, attempting to find Richie. His gut instinct didn’t fail him. Richie was right where he thought he would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curled up against his bedroom’s door, Richie was hiding his face between his knees, his phone stuck to his ear like a lifeline. Getting closer, Eddie could hear Steve’s smothered voice, saying those words that he could almost recite by heart, as of now:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t forget to drink and to eat. And take a shower, it should help you clear your mind. I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pushed the button once again, listening to the voicemail for the umpteenth time. His breathing was shallow and, Eddie was almost sure of it, he was currently crying his eyes out, as silently as he could. Unsure of what he was supposed to do, Eddie remained stuck for a second, before he finally managed to get himself to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One step after the other, Eddie made his presence known to Richie, sitting next to him. He didn’t try to reach out to him, knowing how touchy he could be during these moments, especially since their shopping trip. Instead, he let his hand rest nearby, allowing Richie to hold it if he wanted to do so, looking carefully for the words he should tell him. It was obvious that Richie was missing his husband. But what could Eddie say that his friend hadn’t heard again and again from anyone else?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know what it was like to truly miss someone like that, knowing they’ll never get back. He was too young when his father died, barely keeping any memories of him, and he didn’t regret his mother’s death as much as he should have. Still, he knew he had to do something to get Richie out of this terrible state. Anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t attempt to listen to the voicemail once more. It was a good sign. Eddie hoped so, anyway. Clearing his throat, he let him know, hearts beating fast, fearing to say the wrong thing at any moment:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You can talk to me, you know. About whatever you want. About…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit down his bottom lip, hesitantly adding Steve’s name at the end of his sentence. Richie visibly squirmed, but he didn’t say a thing. He didn’t even attempt to raise his head up, trapped in the darkness, refusing to even give him a glance. Eddie felt incredibly under-qualified to rise to the task and be the one Richie truly needed by his sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no one else, and Eddie refused to leave Richie alone. No matter what. Attempting to get Richie to look up, Eddie stood up quickly, only to sit right in front of his friend, crossing his legs on the hardwood floor. His back would hurt like hell the next day, but he couldn’t care less about that at the moment. Richie mattered more. His utmost priority.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie? Richie, I’m here. I’m not moving. I’m not leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No reaction. Eddie bit back a sigh, forcing a smile on his lips, even though Richie couldn’t see it:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we go back to bed? Surely, it’ll be more comfortable. I’ll prepare you a cup of tea. You could even mess my hair as much as you want, since you seem to love to do that so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled nervously, but he didn’t get even the slightest reaction from his friend. Whatever happened to trigger that, Richie was deep in his grief and his sadness, and Eddie wouldn’t be able to pull him out of it so easily. For a second, he wondered if Richie would remain that way, a terrifying thought he immediately chased, focusing on his friend and his current predicament instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe there was a way to get him to talk… Even if Eddie wouldn’t appreciate it one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we make a deal, Richie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t wait for him to nod, not even sure if he would be able to do so, before he added:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll share something I never told anyone else. In exchange, you’ll let me get you back to bed and hug you, if you’re comfortable with that. And if you want to… You could talk too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Richie didn’t react to this offer, Eddie wouldn’t have any cards left to play. He waited as patiently as he could, keeping his anxiety to himself, until Richie finally raised his head. He was a mess, his eyes red and blotched, his cheeks covered with dry tears, snot on his skin. Eddie was about to go grab a tissue, when Richie wiped his face with his sleeve in a quick motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shivered with disgust, but he didn’t say a thing about it, knowing that Richie wasn’t in a state to care about this kind of thing. It was the right call, because Richie finally whispered, so low that Eddie almost didn’t hear him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie cleared his throat. He wasn’t lying, he never talked about this stuff with anyone else. Not even Myra. His wife wasn’t privy to the heaviest secret of his life, the one that kept haunting him to this day, convincing him that he was the most awful person ever born on this planet. And now, Richie was about to know about it all…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… My heart didn’t fail on its own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie raised an eyebrow, his chin resting on his crossed arms. He wasn’t saying a thing, looking at him with his almost blind gaze, probably barely able to distinguish his face at the moment. Still, he was definitely attentive, waiting for Eddie to say more. It wasn’t an easy thing to do… Eddie was tempted to put that secret back where it belonged, away from everyone else, but now that he started to reveal it, it was too late…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know where to start it all. I guess it must have begun with my father’s death. I was too young to remember what life was before that, but I doubt my mom treated me the way she did afterward. My dad wouldn’t have let her do so. I think so, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Eddie’s turn to curl up as well, feeling incredibly small and vulnerable while he was diving back into his past, a past he tried so hard to bury and not think about for so long…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had all of those treatments. An inhaler for my asthma, pills for my allergies, and whatnot. I was convinced that rolling in the grass could kill me, so you can guess the kind of childhood that I had. Like I said to you before, my mother home-schooled me early, so she was the only person I had in my life. Besides our pharmacist. And the doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit his inner cheek, digging his fingernails in his skin, while the shame was slowly creeping in. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want that at all. And yet, he knew that he needed it. Not only to get Richie to hold up his end of the bargain, but for himself as well. He chuckled nervously, even though he was far from being amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty lonely, uh? And it only got worse. Years went by, and I felt weaker and weaker. I must be awfully sick, I thought. Mom was right to protect me like that, I was convinced of this fact. And yet, I… I learned the truth someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely, Richie was not going to let that fly. As of now, he was still quiet, his eyes fixated on him, giving him his undivided attention. It was flattering in some way, to know how much Richie cared about what he had to say. And yet, it was also incredibly scary…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I never needed any of that. I wasn’t asthmatic, I didn’t have any allergies, I was… I was healthy, as far as I know. But when I discovered that, it was already too late. I… My heart failed me. My mom got what she desired from the start: I was sick, and I needed her to take care of me. I wouldn’t be able to leave her anymore. Not even when I had grown up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the worst part. No, it wasn’t. And Eddie really wanted to keep that part to himself, but he promised Richie the truth, and… and frankly, he needed to finally let someone know about his deepest shame. To let it out, even if it cost him everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom… My mother accused the pharmacist, telling everyone that he was the one who prescribed those meds carelessly. That he should be judged for his crimes. I don’t know what she was hoping to get from it, if it was to get more money, to avoid being suspected, or if it was merely to get more attention from people, but… but it worked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat closed up. It was with teary eyes that Eddie finally admitted, shaking, curling up even more, as if he was trying to make himself disappear:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The judge pronounced him guilty, and he was sentenced to jail, losing his license in the process. I… I never told a thing. No, even worse, I openly </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I told them what my mom wanted me to say, again, and again, and again. At any point, I could have told the truth, revealed what my mother did to me all those years, but I didn’t. I was… I was scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was now the one hiding his face between his knees, his voice getting strangely childish while he managed to get a few words out, before losing himself to the sobs that were overtaking his whole body:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I didn’t want to lose my mommy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest was buried under wails that Eddie couldn’t stop. He knew that he was too loud, that their neighbors could hear them, that he shouldn’t cry like that at his age, but it was completely out of control. Eddie had been carrying this shame for years and years, attempting uselessly to convince himself that his mom wasn’t guilty of anything, that it was truly the pharmacist that poisoned him, and almost killed him in the process. But he wasn’t able to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the truth, he knew how much of a coward he had been all of those years, and yet, he never found the strength to say a thing. He waited, waited until it was too late, until his mother and the pharmacist passed away, before he pretended that he was about to do it, to confront her about it, to set things right. He would never have done so. Not even if he had many other years to attempt to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms surrounded him. Eddie instinctively grabbed Richie’s clothes, hiding his face in his chest, apologizing again and again to the person who had nothing to do with what happened. Eddie didn’t even dare to face the pharmacist, after everything. He didn’t even have the balls to make eye contact with him during the trial… Fuck him. Fuck Eddie Kaspbrak. The worst human on this planet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let himself being walked back to bed, Richie supporting most of his weight. His friend took the initiative to spoon him, keeping him in his tender and protective hold, caressing his hair and shushing him gently, until Eddie started to hiccup and his sobs died down, too tired to keep crying so loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sniffled, biting his bottom lip furiously. He was supposed to comfort Richie, not the other way around! His friend shouldn’t be so nice to him, he was so selfish, he…!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was so upset that he didn’t even realize that he was talking out loud. Richie kept caressing his hair, his voice gentle and slow, as if he was trying his best not to overwhelm Eddie in any way:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother, she… she abused you, in so many ways. She convinced you that you were sick, poisoned you, controlled you. Of course, you didn’t say a thing. You were so sure that you couldn’t live without her. You were scared. Confused. Young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was almost tempted to cover his ears, unable to handle the fact that his mother truly hurt him, when he kept convincing himself that he needed all of that, even after her death. That he needed to be cared for, in every way possible. He didn’t need that. He never needed any of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mom was guilty. Not you. You shouldn’t have carried that burden on your shoulders for so long. You were just a kid, Eds. Just a kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sniffled again. His hand reached for Richie’s, the one that was caressing his hair. Their fingers intertwined, as if they were always supposed to be like this. As if it were meant to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You talked to me, after all of those years. And it was brave, incredibly brave. You didn’t know how I would react, you were probably scared as hell, but you talked. I… Thank you, Eddie. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hesitated for a second, before he whispered to his ear, his breath tickling Eddie’s skin:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I…. Can I talk too? About… About Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t say a word. He merely nodded, making himself comfortable in Richie’s arms, while his friend started to talk about his husband, the most important person in his life. How much he loved him. How much he regretted the smallest and most insignificant moments they got to share together. How his mind was wrongly convinced that, as long as the bedroom’s door remained close, there was a chance that Steve was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, still alive, and not buried six feet underground. Richie knew how absurd it was, he told it so to Eddie, but he couldn’t help it. He was struggling with his grief, and he couldn’t see a way out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie talked more about Steve than he ever did in the last months they got to know each other. And Eddie listened to him, as long as he was able to. He struggled to stay awake, rubbing his teary eyes, repressing a yawn, not wanting to ruin this pivotal moment. Not when Richie was finally talking about his husband. Not when he finally opened up to Eddie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh. It’s okay. Close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t struggle any longer. Exhausted, he didn't know if he truly felt a kiss on the top of his head, or if he merely imagined it. But, weirdly enough, the gesture didn’t annoy him in the slightest. On the contrary, he almost wanted… more.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, Eddie progressed a lot. And Richie too! He finally got to talk about Steve to Eddie. Now, he just needs to be entirely truthful about it, and let him know about his heart. It's gonna be complicated, but it's probably for the best. Better to hear it from Richie than from someone else, after all. </p><p>I had this chapter in mind for a while, the fact that Eddie's heart failure was caused by his mother giving him all of those meds he didn' t need to take, and that he never dared to talk about it, fearing that he might be all alone and that he wouldn't be able to handle it.</p><p>But Eddie knows now that he's braver than he thought he was, and that he can do much more than his mother or Myra think he can. And he's starting to crave for Richie's affection, even if he doesn't understand why yet...</p><p>Thank you for your support. Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Welcome to the 17th chapter of this fanfic! I hope you're doing okay. As for me, I'm... surviving, I guess xD. At least, I have my friends and this story to help a little c:. Let's hope it gets better real soon x). </p><p>Anyway, thank you all for your support, it means the world, especially now! I wish you the best. And I hope you'll like this chapter. With that said, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for self-harm<br/>TW for internalized homophobia<br/>TW for mention of abuse<br/>TW for sexual content</p><p>Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie was sitting in front of Eddie, his eyes fixated on his friend while he was counting and recounting his pills and various medication, forced to recognize the unavoidable truth: he was running out. And he needed to refill his prescription, or he’d be forced to go back to Myra, who usually handled this stuff for him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie waited patiently, his leg shaking slightly under the table. It was the fourth time Eddie attempted to count it all again, as if it would change the outcome. In a few days, he would have nothing left, something he couldn’t allow to happen without endangering himself. Richie didn’t want to be the one to tell Eddie to face reality, fearing that he might be too harsh with his words. He wasn’t well-known for his delicacy or subtlety, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’m sure I can wait a little more. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled nervously, organizing his pills in a neat line, avoiding Richie’s gaze. It couldn’t wait, and they both knew it. Richie was well-aware that Eddie was terrified to have to take care of himself so suddenly, when it had been his mother and his wife’s role all this time. And as much as Richie wanted to help him, he knew he couldn’t take this mantle. He couldn’t be another controlling figure in Eddie’s life. Not when he was just starting to taste freedom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a few more days. I… We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, no need to rush it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hesitated for a second, before he reached out for Eddie’s hand, stopping him in his repetitive ordering. It kinda reminded him of the time he had to be the one to help Stan out of his compulsions, trying to break him out of his obsessive thoughts, not knowing what he was doing. He was just a kid back then, before his friend had been able to get the support he needed. And even though he was an adult now, he felt just as lost and powerless as he used to be…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, we can’t wait. You have to get your medication before you don’t have any left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit his bottom lip, shaking his head slightly. Richie had to fight against himself to not grab his phone and call the doctor for him. Maybe Eddie would be grateful, but in the long term, it would only worsen his issues. Eddie was perfectly capable of making a phone call when it came to his work or his friends. He should be able to do the same when it came to his health. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glanced at his phone, then at Richie, then at his phone. He curled up slightly on his chair, his fingernails scratching his cheek absentmindedly. It hurt to see him in that vulnerable state, just like in the clothing store. Richie held back a grimace at the thought, pushing down his emotions as much as he could. He couldn’t show any weakness at the moment. It was an important step for Eddie to take, and he needed Richie to be strong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand in his was a burning reminder of Richie’s complicated feelings for his friend. Day after day, he could feel them growing uncontrollably, against his will. He was noticing the smallest things and couldn’t help, but find them endearing, as he used to with Steve, when he was still…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Focus. Eddie was his priority right now. Richie would worry about his fucked up feelings and his inability to grieve properly after all of that. Before that, he had to make sure that Eddie called his doctor and booked an appointment as soon as possible. The first time was always the hardest. Once he would realize that he was able to do it, it would be way easier for Eddie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as his friend parted his lips, Richie knew he wouldn’t like what he had to say, but he didn’t try to interrupt him, biting back a sigh instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You could call him for me. Just… Just this time, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was literally begging him to take upon his mother and Myra’s role, but Richie couldn’t accept it. It was just like when he managed Eddie to accept to go out and pick his own clothes: if Richie had given up, Eddie would have most likely  convinced himself that he was definitely unable to do those things on his own and always needed to rely on someone. Someone like Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tightened his grip on Eddie’s hand, ignoring the way his heart was banging against his rib cage, as if it was trying to escape its prison. Eddie needed him. Not to do everything for him, but to remind him that he was more than the fragile kid he kept thinking that he was. He was capable. Brave. So much more than Myra gave him credit for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I can’t do that, Eddie. It’s your doctor, your appointment, your medications. You have to learn how to handle this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how can I learn if no one is showing me how to do it?” Eddie’s voice got progressively higher, his panic clearly visible. “How? I can’t do it, I can’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only Richie had the magical words to show Eddie that he was perfectly capable of handling this task. That it was not insurmountable, far from it. His friend only parroted the fucked up ideas that Myra and his mother put in his head, brainwashing he couldn’t break from so easily. But he was far more capable than he thought. He could do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was starting to get antsy. Eddie was clearly not thinking straight and, the more he pushed this task back, the less he would be able to accomplish it. He didn’t want him to turn into a crying mess, as he did when he told him about his childhood. Richie was still furious about what his friend had to go through, and the guilt he carried with him, all of those years. All the more reason to let him know that he had the possibility to take his life into his own hands and handle every aspect of it, without having to rely constantly on authority figures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, you just have to call your doc’, ask him for an appointment, and hang up. That’s it. Nothing else. I’ll come with you then, I promise. But you need to be the one to call him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No! Why can’t you do it? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he wasn’t Myra. Because he wasn’t Eddie’s mother. Because his friend didn’t walk away from his controlling wife to subjugate himself to someone else’s influence. Richie could be there for him in many ways, he wanted to, but he knew that he couldn’t do that for him. Not without damaging him even further. Not without shattering the fragile self-esteem Eddie started to build for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t be reasoned with, at the moment. Richie could clearly feel his hand trembling in his own, and he kept shaking his head, wheezing anxiously. If it went on any longer, Richie feared that the stress might strain his hearts. He hated himself for what he was about to do, but he didn’t have a choice. Eddie needed his meds, and, even more than that, he had to stop underestimating himself so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Hand me the phone, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes were filled with gratitude when he passed Richie his cellphone, waiting eagerly for his friend to handle his business. He was already sliding back into a familiar role, a reassuring prison he didn’t feel ready to leave. But he had to. And Richie would do whatever it take to ensure that it would happen. As soon as he dialed the number, Richie put back the phone in Eddie’s hand, sticking it against his ear before he had the time to protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was pale as a sheet, trembling, but his doctor’s secretary answered the phone, and, soon, he had no choice but to stutter an answer, managing as best as he could to book an appointment for the following day. As soon as he hung up, Eddie glared at Richie, teary and furious eyes locking into his, but Richie didn’t cower nor try to avoid his angry glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you that you could do it, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit down his bottom lip, once again. Letting go of his phone, he slammed the table with his hands, before he stood up from his chair, walking away from Richie. As much as he was tempted to run after him, Richie let him do so, knowing that it would only make things worse if he attempted to talk to his friend at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he managed to prove to Eddie that he could indeed handle this kind of thing on his own, he still betrayed his trust, and his friend was rightfully pissed and hurt. It’s not the first time he deceived him like that, Richie bitterly thought. But this white lie, it was for Eddie’s sake. As for the rest… He would tell him everything. When the time would come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was curled up on the couch, his back ostensibly turned towards Richie’s direction. He expected that kind of reaction from his friend, who never learned how to handle his emotions in a healthy way (as if Richie was really one to talk), but it still hurt to witness it. Would he have to keep hurting him like that to free Eddie from his brainwashing? How much would it take for his friend to definitely hate him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After quite some time, Eddie still hadn’t moved or even tried to keep himself busy in any way. Richie sighed, walking carefully towards him, ready to head back if his friend let him know that he didn’t want to have him around. Grabbing a nearby chair, Richie ungraciously collapsed on it, trying to get Eddie’s attention. His friend sniffled, still glaring, but he didn’t attempt to shield himself from Richie’s gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twirling his thumbs nervously, Richie took a deep breath, before he finally managed to say:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Eddie. We were running out of time, and I knew you had to be the one to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tricked me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t any anger left in Eddie’s voice. Just a deep hurt, mixed with disappointment. Richie would rather have been called many names and yelled at, instead of what his friend was letting him see at the moment. He didn’t even know what to say. He did trick him. Even if it was for his own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t ready. I was scared. You tricked me. It’s fucked up, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that. He knew that very well. But the whole situation was fucked up. What Eddie had gone through all those years, how much it traumatized him, this brainwashing that Richie was desperately trying to get him out of… Not to mention Richie’s place in all of that. The lie that he kept to himself, a secret he knew he had to share one day or another…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t know what to do. He was just trying to help. He wasn’t a professional. Heck, he could barely take care of himself, if he were to be honest. He wasn’t appropriate to help Eddie with his issues. But he was the only person he had, as of now. So, Richie tried his best to fill this complicated role. Even if it meant fucking up from time to time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you have called him if we waited for a little more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie knew the answer to this question. Eddie too. But he needed him to recognize this fact, as painful as it was. Richie didn’t act on a whim or to torment his friend needlessly. It would take the smallest thing for Eddie to go back to the man his wife wanted him to be. To go back to her, in the end. Richie couldn’t allow that to happen. Not because he… he loved Eddie, but because his friend deserved better than this controlling and abusive relationship. He deserved to be happy. Free and happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t want to admit it. Still curled up on the couch, he dug his fingernails in his pants, cheeks burning red. It took him a few minutes to finally say out loud, so low that Richie barely managed to hear it:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, I wouldn’t have called him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was, the painful truth. Eddie needed Richie’s nudge, as brutal as it had been. Maybe Richie could have handled it better. Perhaps he should start seeking psychological help, for Eddie’s sake (and probably his own as well). But Richie couldn’t change what happened, and the results were indubitably there: Eddie did manage to set up an appointment with his doctor. All on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I sit next to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie silently nodded, and Richie left his chair to get to the couch, his hand lingering there for his friend to grab it if he wanted to do so. They were getting more and more tactile, day after day, and Richie didn’t really know how to feel about that. Eddie’s hand in his was the greatest thing, but the burning pain of shame and betrayal always accompanied those moments, and Richie wasn’t sure he was strong enough to keep handling them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you so scared, Eddie? You called your workplace to let them know that you would be back to work in a few days. And you did the same with Bill and Mike. How is that any different?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing Richie’s hand, Eddie squeezed it nervously, eyes downcast. Richie couldn’t help but wonder how his friend was interpreting the way their relationship was evolving. He had to see it, right? The way they were getting more and more tactile, how comfortable they were with each other, all those little things they didn’t share until now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t pushing him back. He even welcomed his hand in his as much as possible, and Richie often woke up with Eddie’s body curled up against him, his face hidden in Richie’s chest. There was no possible heterosexual explanation for this behavior. But would Eddie be able to recognize it? And if he did, what were they supposed to do about it? Richie didn’t know what to do with his feelings. He still loved Steve, and there was always this lie lingering between them. This lie that could change everything…</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Eddie’s voice pulled Richie out of his confused thoughts, focusing back on his friend’s well-being:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… I never… My health, it was always someone else’s business. My mom, my wife… Never mine. Myra booked my appointments, answered the doctor’s questions, always ready to contest their advice if she felt that I wasn’t getting the right care, and she decided which treatments should be more appropriate for me. I… uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s cheeks became increasingly red, while he admitted something he probably never told anyone else until then:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The doc wanted to give me something for… uh… my erectile dysfunction. Side effect. Myra looked up the treatment, and decided that it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t even have a say in the matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so fucked up, Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie would lie if he pretended that the subject didn’t make him feel awkward. A part of him was tempted to joke about it, but it was a sensitive topic, and he didn’t want to risk hurting Eddie carelessly. Who did Myra think she was, controlling every aspect of Eddie’s life, even the most intimate and personal ones? It should have been up to Eddie to decide if he wanted to do something about his sexual issues. Not Myra. Not anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must be hard, all of this. I’m so sorry, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shrugged, as if it was perfectly normal for him. He hesitated for a second, before he stretched his lips into a cheeky smile, whispering to Richie’s ear:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, actually. It’s soft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was so taken aback that he was only able to let out an “Uh?”, prompting Eddie to add, explaining the joke:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down there. It’s… It’s soft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit his bottom lip. Richie did the same. It didn’t take them long to break down into a burst of uncontrollable laughter, a hysterical fit that they clearly both needed to experience. Eddie rested his head on Richie’s shoulder for a second, wheezing painfully, his hand clutching to his chest:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I need to calm down… Who knew that a dick joke would be the death of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Richie felt his blood freezing in his veins, but he did his best to conceal it, taking a deep breath, still smiling. It was just a saying. Eddie was fine. He was perfectly fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dick joke that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> made, Eddie Spaghetti! I didn’t think you had it in you. You naughty pervert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s face morphed into an exaggerated offended expression, while he playfully hit Richie’s chest, his hand barely grazing the skin:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? A pervert? You were the one who insisted that I should put a “visit to a strip-club” on my bucket list!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I merely suggested the idea, Eds. Of all the things I mentioned, it’s the one you actually remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pointed his index finger at Eddie, adding with a theatrical tone:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My client is definitely the naughtiest pervert ever born on this planet, your Honor. I rest my case!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Richie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie attempted to shut him up, putting his hand over Richie’s mouth, but Richie didn’t let him do so. They wrestled on the couch, laughing and grinning stupidly, until Eddie was straddling him, putting both of his hands on Richie’s mouth, successfully muffling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won! I got you to shut your filthy mouth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie mumbled something unintelligible, managing to distract Eddie for a second. Enough to start tickling his ribs, turning his laugh into a hysterical wheeze, grinning fully when Eddie had to let go and stop pressing his hands on his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, my Trashmouth is always open and ready for more. And I’m not just talking about words, if you catch my drift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, poking one last time at Eddie’s ribs. Eddie started to cough a little, his cheeks red, shaking his head with an unconvincing dismissive expression on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the pervert. God, you’re so gross, sometimes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he knew he wouldn’t attempt to tickle Eddie any longer (he didn’t want to risk him getting too agitated and out of breath), Richie still pretended to raise his hands, as if he was about to do so. Eddie grabbed his wrists, pinning them on the couch with more strength than Richie thought he had:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah-ah-ah, not so fast! I told you I won, Richie. You’re at my mercy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t even attempt to struggle, enjoying the situation and Eddie’s clear amusement. At least, he managed to distract him from what could have been a panic attack. Even if he was now pinned to the couch like a fucking teenager. Richie could very much feel Eddie’s body against him, in this undeniably seductive posture. Not wanting to pop a boner and make it even weirder than it already was, Richie took a deep breath, trying to think about the least exciting things he could muster in his mind. Mrs. B. from his fifth-grade math class was already a good start…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until it wasn’t. Until Eddie’s eyes locked onto his, a gaze that Richie had never seen on his friend’s face. Time seemed to stop for a second, Richie’s breathing getting shallow, his heart beating fast, too fast. Eddie was still holding his wrists hostage, his legs straddling Richie’s waist as if they were two pieces of the same puzzle finally fitting nicely together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t have time to think when Eddie’s face got closer to him, his own lips parting in an uncontrollable reflex. A smothered whine escaped his throat as soon as he got a first taste of Eddie, lips locking into a sloppy kiss. Richie’s mind went blank, his tongue looking desperately for Eddie’s, arousal and attraction taking over, his brain in the backseat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could feel himself getting hard, unmistakably hard, but Eddie was still kissing him, even though he was pretty sure that he could feel it. He had to… Richie had closed his eyes, so taken aback by the sudden kiss that he could only bask into it, taking everything that Eddie had to offer to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until his friend had to pull back to take a breath. Until Richie’s eyelids fluttered open, and he realized fully what just happened. Silence fell, while they were both staring at each other, mouth agape, unable to process the situation just yet. Richie’s brain functions kicked back in, in the worst way possible, his mind reminding him of the unmistakable and cruel truth:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not Steve.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes landed on his wedding ring, which he never took off. Eddie seemed to do the same, looking at his own proof of engagement, before he glanced back at Richie, his face unreadable. Was he horrified? Curious? Aroused? Maybe all of that, at the same time. Eddie hastily stood up on his feet, Richie finally allowing himself to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kissed. They fucking kissed. Eddie Kaspbrak kissed Richie Tozier. In his own flat. In Steve’s apartment. Richie gasped weakly, curling up into a shaky form, while Eddie mumbled an apology, eyes wide, fingernails scratching the skin uncontrollably:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t… I wasn’t… I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not Steve. He’s not Steve.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s mind kept playing this thought in his head mercilessly. Again. And again. And again. He didn’t even realize Eddie left the room, running to his office, locking himself in. He couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened, the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his own, the slight rubbing of his crotch against Richie’s waist, as if Eddie was running after a sensation he was unable to experience, the lust in his magnificent doe eyes…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t Steve. For so long, Richie thought of his husband and his friend as a unit, Steve’s heart keeping Eddie alive, his lover still there, somewhere. And now, he painfully realized that it wasn’t true. That Eddie was his own person, and that they just kissed. Richie curled up even more, attempting to hide from Steve’s pictures, that all seemed to stare at him, judging him for his weakness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He betrayed his husband. He tricked Eddie. Richie was the worst. And he was a fucking pervert, as his current arousal proved it without the shadow of a doubt. He couldn’t help it, his libido reminding him of what he had been missing for too long, his heart beating for the wrong man, his body longing for someone he couldn’t have, he shouldn’t have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his shaky legs, Richie wobbled to the bathroom, closing the door behind him, collapsing on the ground. His hands hastily opened his fly, lowering his pants and his underwear just enough to grab his hard cock. Disgusting. He felt disgusting. Sobs escaped him, while his fingers brutally handled his dick, looking for a quick and possibly painful release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t want to feel pleasure. He didn’t want to feel good. He just wanted to punish himself for his thoughts. His arousal. His weakness. How awful he was. How revulsing he was. His breathing shallow, his fingernails digging into the sensitive skin, Richie blinked through his tears, trying to keep his keening noises as low as possible. Eddie couldn’t hear that. He shouldn’t hear that. And Steve… Steve…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take him much longer to come, Steve and Eddie’s names on his lips, his eyes closed, his mind filled with tormenting thoughts and pictures. In his irrational desperation, Richie was absolutely convinced that, if he were to listen to Steve’s voicemail, he would only hear him calling him out on his betrayal. They were married. He loved him. He loved him so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I didn’t mean to… I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Eddie… Poor, poor Eddie. Richie should be there for him, help him make sense of his feelings, but, instead, he was throwing a pity party for himself, crying and masturbating in the bathroom, as the ashamed teenager he used to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t supposed to go this far… Richie merely wanted to make sure that Eddie was happy, so that Steve would be as well. So, why…? Why did he…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t know how long he stayed in the bathroom, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. Long enough for Eddie to start knocking at the door, trying to get him to come out. But Richie didn’t answer. He didn’t want to face Eddie. To face reality. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The key slid from the lock, falling on a piece of paper. Eddie pulled it to his side, unlocking the door before Richie had the time to even think to do or say something. He hastily pulled his pants up, while Eddie let him do so, standing in the doorway, arms crossed. His eyes were probably as red and blotched as Richie’s were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, we… we need to talk.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>... Weeeell, I didn't plan at all for it to happen when I started writing this chapter. For real. It just... happened? I guess? My story got out of hand, shit xD. This was a very interesting chapter to write. Eddie and Richie both took a step they weren't ready to take yet, and now they have to handle the consequences. They're progressing on some stuff, having troubles with other things... And this new development is definitely gonna make it even more complicated. But also quite interesting ;).</p><p>With that said, thank you all for your support! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're doing okay. I'm currently getting back some of my energy, since I'm not working at the moment. I hope it will last. I think I slept two whole days as of now, I was so freaking tired... </p><p>I finally managed to find the motivation and the inspiration for this chapter, I hope you'll like it c:. Thank you all for your support! It really means everything. And it really helps with the motivation, to be honest, your kind words and all c:.</p><p>With that said, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for self-harm<br/>TW for mention of homophobia<br/>TW for mention of abuse</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once again, Eddie was running away. Locking the door behind him, he started to pace around the room, heart beating fast, sweat rolling down his back. He couldn’t believe what he just did. To be honest, without Richie’s shocked reaction, he would have thought that he hallucinated the whole event. His lips against Richie’s, looking for a taste he didn’t know he wanted to pursue. And yet, he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was straight. He only loved a woman, and it was Myra. But did he? For so long, she was the only person he could be close to, aside from his mother. She was his whole world, and he latched onto her, because he didn’t want to be alone. Because she felt safe. But could he even call that love?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie started to realize a while ago that his relationship with Myra was nothing like the one Richie used to have with his husband. Or the way Bill and Mike loved each other. But it was easier to just push it down, to pretend that this thought didn’t exist, and that everything was okay. Even though it was not the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, he just… he just felt the need to kiss his best friend. It was out of control, as if his body moved from his own volition, before his brain caught up. Eddie caressed his lips with his shaky fingers, barely feeling the tears on his cheeks. He didn’t… He just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie finally sat down, his mind blank, unable to come up with a rational thought. He could only see the event unfolding, again and again, and the hurt in Richie’s eyes. For a second, his best friend really seemed into it. Until he was horrified. Eddie didn’t mean for that to happen. He didn’t mean for any of that to happen. Why did he…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze landed on his wedding ring, and he let out a long sigh, scratching the back of his neck viciously. He was married. To a woman. And he just made a move on Richie, who was in such a vulnerable position, still grieving his husband, unable to take a proper step forward… How cruel. How awful. Eddie gagged at the thought, but he managed to keep it all inside, shaking his legs nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t stupid or oblivious. He definitely saw the way he and Richie got closer since they shared the same flat. How easy and natural it was to reach for his friend’s hand, how happy he was whenever they spent time together, how much they talked to each other… Eddie even told him about his past, something he always kept to himself, something even Myra didn’t know about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie never trusted someone as much as he trusted Richie at this moment. And Richie allowed himself to be vulnerable as well, talking about his husband, his grief, how challenging it was to live in a world where Steve wasn’t there anymore. Eddie felt that he could literally pour his heart out to Richie, and he wanted him to do the same. It was never the case with Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to make of his wife’s troubles. He wasn’t comfortable with her tears, her doubts, her fears. He could barely get himself to hug her through her pain, hoping that it would end soon, that they would go back to the dynamic he was used to, Myra taking care of him, and not the other way around. But not with Richie. Richie was… special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he love Richie? More than a friend? Eddie sighed once again, wiping his wet eyes with the back of his hand. If he were to believe his body’s reactions, then yes, very much. Or, at least, he desired him, in a way he had never experienced until then. Even though he couldn’t get it up, Eddie’s whole being had been longing for Richie, to feel his hands on his skin, his lips against his. Even now, a part of him wanted to get back to it. To chase the feeling that he couldn’t quite experience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In such a short time, Eddie was forced to look back on himself, his whole life, who he believed he was. He always thought that he was straight, in love with his wife. She had been the only woman for him. But maybe it was more about how secluded his life had been, all those years. Eddie had spent so much of his time in a hospital room, not knowing if the day he was living would be the last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra was the first person he had been able to connect with, aside from his mom and the medical staff. And when she told him that she loved him, he just thought that he might be feeling the same. Because he wanted her around. Because he liked spending time with someone who was not his mom. Because… Because he was so fucking alone. And he hated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easier to convince himself that he loved her. That he wasn’t with her because he settled for the only person who took an interest in him. Her smothering affection was familiar, almost reassuring, even though a small part of himself kept hoping for something else. It was all he had ever known. Even now that he started to realize how terrible it was, he was still looking for it, trying to force Richie into a role he wasn’t comfortable with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richie wasn’t Myra. And their relationship was so different. Not once, Richie tried to get him to act in a certain way, give up on things that he liked, and stop him from meeting people. He even encouraged him to reach out to Bill and Mike, when he was pretty sure that Myra would have agreed with him that it was a disaster, and that there was no way they would want anything to do with him anymore. As long as she could be the only one to “have” him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie felt nauseous. He wasn’t an object. He wasn’t a doll. He was a human being, and he had the right to have his own ambitions, his desires, even if they weren’t similar to his wife’s. For the first time in his life, Eddie finally realized how much he had sacrificed himself all those years, so that his wife would keep loving him, so that he wouldn’t be all alone. And it was revulsing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now wasn’t the time for this emotional crisis. Richie… Eddie just kissed him and left him, as if it was nothing, as if he was the only one to worry about, as if he should only think about himself. Richie already knew he was gay, so he wasn’t freaking out over it like Eddie currently was, but he was still going through a lot. His first thought must have been for his husband, that he wasn’t able to let go of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Given how obsessively he kept listening to Steve’s last voicemail, Eddie doubted he would just take what happened in stride. And Eddie just let him lock himself in the bathroom, all alone… God, he was the worst. Eddie took a deep breath, rubbing his blotched eyes, before he finally got up on his feet, going to the bathroom with a sick feeling. What if Richie… What if he…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he couldn’t think that. He couldn’t. Richie would never do that, right? He wouldn’t do that because of him, because of what he just did… Eddie tried to chase this terrible thought, but it kept coming back, gnawing at his brain. Standing in front of the bathroom door, Eddie couldn’t get himself to knock, to let his presence known. He could hear Richie sobbing, and… and touching himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks reddened, his breathing slightly out of control at the thought. Eddie shook his head, knowing it wasn’t the time to picture Richie pleasuring himself, that he wasn’t ready for the kind of feeling it inspired him, and that his friend needed him right now. Eddie had to be strong. Solid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Eddie managed to knock on the door, calling out to Richie. Once, twice, thrice. But Richie didn’t answer. Normally, Eddie would walk away, waiting for his friend to be ready to come out, but he wasn’t sure Richie would ever manage to do so on his own. And, frankly, he was scared that something terrible might happen, if he didn’t intervene…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years ago, Eddie had gotten used to unlocking his door from the other side, his mother always locking him in during the night, so that he wouldn’t sneak out (not that he ever dared to do so). Little Eddie managed to find ways to get out, if only to go to the bathroom, keeping it discrete so that his mother would never suspect a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the bathroom door was a piece of cake for him. He knew that Richie would feel betrayed, but Eddie didn’t have much of a choice. He finally fully understood why Richie had to trick him with the phone call, why he couldn’t do otherwise. Sometimes, people had to be helped against their own will. It was one of those moments. Richie needed him. And Eddie would be there for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t comment on the fact that his friend was pulling his pants back up, only letting him know that they needed to talk. They couldn’t just brush it off, as if nothing happened. Eddie kissed Richie, and a part of him was longing for more. Richie didn’t reject him. He answered to his kiss passionately, and it meant something. But what they would be doing with all of that, it was up to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sniffled, quickly washing his hands (Eddie appreciated the gesture), before he followed him out of the bathroom, back to the living room. Eddie sat on the couch, while Richie grabbed a chair and took a seat, eyes downcast, cheeks covered with dried tears. They both looked so pitiful… Why was it all so complicated?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, I’m… I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, it just… I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused. Richie wiped his face frenetically, almost knocking his glasses off in the process. He was shaking his legs even more than Eddie, unable to control himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t push you back. I was… A part of me was hoping for something like that to happen. I know that. And… And I think it’s been a while since I… I started to see you that way. To want you like that. But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bit his bottom lip, his voice so low that Eddie almost didn’t hear his last word:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve, of course. He was this elephant in the room, that none of them could ignore. His face was plastered pretty much everywhere, but Eddie was sure that Richie didn’t need the reminder to think about him all the time. To mourn him constantly. Richie was in love with his husband, and he wasn’t there anymore. And he had no idea how to deal with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t, Eddie. I can’t. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wanted it, though. He wanted to taste Richie’s lips once again, to hug him in a non-platonic way, to share with him the kind of intimacy he never wanted to have with Myra. But he was still very much married, and he… he wasn’t even sure he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>How could he know for sure? Did it even matter? Eddie didn’t want to hurt Richie, if it was just a one-time thing, a heated moment that didn’t mean much… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t… It doesn’t have to mean anything right now, Richie. We don’t have to find a clear answer immediately. I’m not sure we could, if we tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s brain felt like mush. He wanted so much, and he was reluctant to give it a try at the same time. Scared, mostly. He didn’t want to hurt Richie carelessly, and lose him in the process. What if they attempted a relationship, and they realized that it wouldn’t work? What if Eddie was unable to love him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only ever “loved” Myra, and he was pretty sure Richie didn’t want that kind of love from him. Richie wasn’t his caretaker. He wasn’t a parent. He was a friend, and he could be a partner, if… if they gave it a shot. But should they? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s hand ventured on his chest, feeling his heartbeats under his fingers. He didn’t know how long his life had been prolonged. At any moment, he could just… die. He had been lucky so far, real lucky, but maybe he wasn’t meant to have a long life. Perhaps it was just a brief respite before… before the worse happened. Could he put that on Richie? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a big chance that Eddie would be the first to leave. It could be soon, it could be late, but Eddie doubted that he would outlive Richie. And it would mean that he would have to lose him, to lose a significant other… again. Steve was still a gaping wound in Richie’s heart. If Eddie died, he wasn’t sure Richie could handle it. That he would be able to keep on living, after having been through so much pain. Were they willing to take this risk? Was Eddie selfish enough to want to be with Richie, regardless of what might happen?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think I love you, Richie. But I’m very happy to have you as a friend as well. We can… We can take the time to figure it out. It doesn’t have to be a “No” or a “Yes” immediately, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugged as an answer, parting his lips, but finally remaining silent, as if he didn’t know what to say. Eddie couldn’t blame him. He was the one who created this awkward situation, who put that on his shoulders… He had to be the one to fix that. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I need to think more. Figure out what I should do with Myra. I think… I think we can’t go back to the way we used to be. But she deserves to have a real talk about it. To know that it’s not about her, it’s… I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was also about her. Her controlling tendencies. How much she smothered him, day after day. Eddie was eternally grateful for Myra’s presence in his life, when he had no one else, but she was bad for him. And she deserved better than a husband that didn’t love her properly. He couldn’t just ghost her eternally and start a relationship with Richie. It didn’t work that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna leave her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glanced at Richie, who was looking at him with an expression on his face that he couldn’t quite decipher. Was he hopeful? Was he scared? Maybe he didn’t quite believe him… Eddie scratched his cheek nervously, looking for the answer he should give:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think? Maybe? I… I need to talk to her for that to happen, and I’m… I’m not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not ready. I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t seem disappointed. Or even sad. He understood, in a way Eddie never thought he would. He understood how complicated and messy it was, and he wasn’t holding any grudge against Eddie. Even if he had every right to do so, given that Eddie was the one who initiated the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I know that things are going to change between us. Even if we don’t want it to, as of now.” Richie sighed. “But we can just let it happen naturally. See where it leads us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to put a smile on his face, before he finally added:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can deal with our feelings like adults. Instead of, you know, running to our rooms like overly dramatic teenagers in a rom-com. Although, I can still pull out the boombox and play “In your eyes” to win you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled at the cheesy reference (they really watched too many romcoms together), before he added thoughtlessly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to win anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie loved Richie. If he didn’t have Myra, if he didn’t come from such a fucked-up background, if he had learned to love in a healthy way, he wouldn’t hesitate. But he should, because Richie had his own baggage, because love wasn’t about one person only, because it was about them both. And even if Eddie happened to be ready (it wasn’t the case), Richie wasn’t. Maybe he would never be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was okay. It had to be okay. Eddie didn’t want to lose him. Richie mattered too much to him. He mattered so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m happy to be your friend, Richie. I love the time we spend together, I love our talks, our running sessions, your jokes, everything. I don’t… I don’t want to have to lose all of that, because I acted stupidly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s hand reached briefly for his, squeezing it firmly, before he let it go, as if he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to stop touching him otherwise. Eddie was aching for more. And he had the feeling that it was the same for Richie. But they both had a lot to work on, before they even attempted to give it a try…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t stupid. Our kiss, it wasn’t stupid, Eddie. And I don’t want to lose you either. You… I want you in my life. In any way possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighed, gnawing on his fingertips, shaking his legs more and more. Eddie didn’t know how to help him to calm down, fearing to make it worse. It was so complicated… Why was it so complicated? For so long, everything had been simple for Eddie. He just had to trust his mother and his wife to handle it all for him, no need to think it through. But now, Eddie had to deal with this stuff, and it was so, so much… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was probably for the best, right? It meant that he was making his own choices. Picking his own path. He wasn’t allowing anyone else to do that for him anymore. He had control over his life, for the first time. As scary as it was to make a bad decision, it was also incredibly freeing. No one, but him, would get to pick for him what he should do. No one but him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s just so much I need to think about first. And… And there’s something I have to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow at Richie’s words, intrigued. Something he had to tell him? What was it about? He frankly had no idea. And Richie seemed incredibly nervous, downright shaking now that he mentioned the topic, even if he remained vague about it. Something to tell him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had a bad feeling. Richie tried to tell him. He could see that. He tried, and he tried, and he tried, until he finally relented, eyes downcast, cheeks burning with shame:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t. Not right now. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, asking Eddie with a pleading voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we go out? I need a walk. Some fresh air. Anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They couldn’t stay in Richie’s flat right now. In </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s flat. Eddie understood that. He still had trouble venturing out sometimes, scared that Myra could see him and try to get him back, but they both needed it now. They really needed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… Alright, Richie. Let me grab my stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiled gratefully, and Eddie was overcome with the need to kiss these soft lips again, to get to experience once again this beautiful and overwhelming feeling. But he didn’t listen to his body, focusing instead on his medication, making sure that he brought everything he needed to go out. All of it reminded him how fleeting his life was, how it could just end so suddenly, because his body stopped tolerating his hearts, because they failed him, because he had a wrong reaction to his medication, because… because destiny was so cruel, sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced back at Richie, who was currently putting on his shoes. He would worry. He would suffer. Even if Eddie’s hearts didn’t fail him, it would still be a lot. Did he want to put that on him? Did he really want that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head, trying to focus back on the present situation, failing to do so. He said it himself: they didn’t need to have every answer right away. If they ever wanted to get into a relationship, they would talk about that, together. Eddie couldn’t make this choice for Richie. If he ever wanted to be his partner and felt ready to handle it, Eddie would accept it. He would gladly accept it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But until then, they just had to keep on living their life. Figure things out. Eddie had to find the courage to confront Myra and decide what to do with his marriage. Richie had to process his husband’s death and find a way to move on. It was the only way for them to make it work, whatever their relationship would be. Friendship, love… Eddie would accept pretty much anything that Richie would give him. As long as they were still a part of each other’s life…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Eddie and Richie remained in an awkward and uncomfortable silence, walking in the streets while barely looking at each other. It was exactly what Eddie was trying so desperately to avoid, this thick wall between them, preventing them from interacting like they used to. Would it be like that forever, now? Because he foolishly kissed Richie, when none of them were ready for that to happen?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tried to say something, but he honestly had no idea where to start. Richie glanced back at him, waiting patiently for him to talk. He stretched his lips into a clumsy and encouraging smile, the one Eddie loved so much to see. He finally managed to pull some thoughts out of his mind, letting Richie know with a hesitating voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I thought that we could… that you… that you could meet Bill and Mike. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie took a deep breath, feeling incredibly awkward:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met almost all of your friends, but you… apart from you, they’re my only friends, and I… I think you’ll like them a lot. And that they will like you too. I don’t know, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was stumbling on his words, worrying that Richie might think that it was stupid of him, that they should focus first on getting comfortable with each other again, before even trying to meet other people. But Richie’s smile grew bigger, and he nodded:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like that a lot, Eds. They seem really nice. And hey, I could always use more gay friends, mine are painfully straight! I could finally pull out the glitter and be my fab self freely!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes, barely containing a smile. But Richie’s remark worried him a little, and he asked him, hoping for the best:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your friends, they’re… they don’t say anything about you being gay or something, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m joking. They were all super accepting when I came out to them, and it’s still the case. I wonder if they knew before I did, honestly. Even Stan, who’s coming from this super religious family, he just accepted it. I couldn’t be luckier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… uh… your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t imagine telling his mother that he might be gay. Or bisexual. Or whatever was the label he should put on his feelings. He still remembered to this day how much she attempted (and succeeded, for a while) to scare him with horror stories about AIDS. The slurs she could use. Maybe it was for the best that she wasn’t there anymore. If he had to face that problem, on top of everything else, Eddie would have just crumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stretched his arms, Eddie burning with the desire to grab his hand and feel his friend’s long fingers against his. He resisted this impulse, while Richie finally answered him, a thoughtful smile on his lips:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it was pretty awkward at first. My father asking me if it was just a phase, my mom being super awkward and barely able to say the word “gay” out loud, that kind of stuff. It took them some time to be fully comfortable with the idea, but I think they are, now. They were at my wedding with Steve, you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last sentence lingered ominously in the air, while Richie and Eddie went back to a painful silence. No matter what, Steve was always there, haunting Richie, preventing him from moving on and allowing himself to be fully happy again. Eddie knew that it wasn’t fair, but he really started to hate the guy, and how much he hurt Richie. His friend didn’t deserve that… He should have more than the half-life he was currently leading, stuck in the past, unable to step forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry I brought back those memories, Richie. I’m terrible at small talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s me. I just… I guess I can’t stop thinking about him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie pulled out his phone, hugging it against his heart. The thing was so precious to him, it hurt Eddie to see his friend clinging to it that way. Steve’s last words were there, recorded on the device, for Richie to listen to them whenever he wanted. How could he properly move on if he kept going back to that moment? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t judge him, and he would never ask Richie to let go of the voicemail, but he doubted that it was positive in any way. Richie needed to be able to move forward, but Steve’s voice reminded him constantly of what he lost, and it couldn’t be good. Still… What could Eddie do about that? What could he do, aside from being there and listening to Richie, letting him know that he could count on him at any time?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love him. I love him so much. He… He means so much to me. It’s… It’s hard to convince myself to talk about him in the past tense, to accept that he will never be around anymore, you know? I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie patted Richie’s shoulder clumsily, not knowing what to do at the moment. He could feel that his friend was on the verge of tears again, and he really wanted to support him, but all of this was clearly out of his field. Richie needed help that Eddie couldn’t give him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Richie. I really am. You… You can take as much time as you need, you know? I’ll be there for you. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wiped his eyes quickly, thanking Eddie under his breath. He didn’t have to. Friends or partners, it was normal for Eddie to be there for him. Just like Richie had supported him, when he needed him. That’s how it was supposed to work. That was a real relationship. So different from the ones Eddie had experienced so far…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could have been a nice walk for them to reconnect. To find their spark again, to banter endlessly, and to give themselves the time to figure out what they wanted to be. But everything fell apart so suddenly. It only took a moment. A single fucking moment. It all happened so quickly. One second, Richie was putting his phone back in his pocket. But he didn’t have the time to do so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie saw it all happening. The phone being snatched from his hands, the thief running away… He just had to witness the horror on Richie’s expression for his body to move of his own volition. Eddie never ran so fast, catching up to the man, grabbing his hand. Struggling to get him to drop it, Eddie managed to put his hands on the phone, not caring for a second about the way his hearts were suddenly racing. He didn’t even let go when the guy elbowed him in the chest, focused on getting back what belonged to Richie. What was so important to him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the thief gave up and ran away, Eddie’s fingers clutched on Richie’s phone. Out of breath, red, shaking, Eddie showed the object to his friend with a victorious smile on his face. But it didn’t last for long. He barely had the time to pocket Richie’s phone, a reflex he wasn’t even aware of, before it all went to hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie could feel his heart pounding in his chest, in his ears, his whole body shaking, his breathing getting out of control. His hands reached for his chest, fingers digging in his shirt uselessly. He couldn’t tell if a second or a whole minute passed, before he found himself on the ground, Richie softening his fall at the last moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear voices, but couldn’t comprehend a thing. It hurt. And it didn’t, at the same time. As if he was out of his body, experiencing everything from afar. What was happening? Why was he…? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s last conscious thought went to Richie, hoping confusedly that he wouldn’t get angry if his phone was broken. And then, there was only darkness.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I planned for the end scene to happen for so long. I had in mind Eddie getting Richie's phone back and collapsing right afterward. Richie was supposed to be the one narrating this event, though, but with their kiss during the previous chapter and all, it kinda changed my plans xD. For the best, I hope c:. </p><p>It's really interesting when things just get out of control and evolve so differently from what I originally planned. Eddie and Richie seem to act all on their own sometimes, it's weird xD. </p><p>Really impatient to get to the next part of this story. It's gonna be something for sure c:. I hope you'll like it!</p><p>With that said, thank you all for your support! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're okay. I'm highly tired and struggling to remain awake as of now, but my chapter is ready, so there it is! I hope my current state isn't influencing too badly its content, but I really wanted to update the story on time, so that's how it is. Thank you for your support and your kind words! Everyone is so nice, it really warms my heart.</p><p>With that said, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for self-harm<br/>TW for mention of abuse</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time had stopped the minute they rushed to the hospital, and Richie had been separated from Eddie. He begged to stay, but his plea was rejected, and he was now pacing in the waiting room, gnawing on his fingernails, eyes wide with fear.</p><p>It was a nightmare… It was a horrible nightmare and he was going to wake up soon. Eddie will roll his eyes at his vivid imagination, and they’ll have their breakfast together, not a care in the world, laughing at Richie’s stupidity. It couldn’t be true… It just couldn’t.</p><p>Richie’s phone felt heavy in his pocket, as if it was carrying his whole guilt. If he didn’t pull it out, if he didn’t let that guy steal it, if he ran after him instead of Eddie… His friend wouldn’t be… he…</p><p>Richie shook his head, unaware of the weird looks the other people in the waiting room were giving him. Eddie wasn’t <em>dead. </em>He took a bad hit, but he was going to be fine. He was strong, so strong, he…</p><p>What if his body rejected his heart because of that? Because of <em>him? </em>What if Steve’s heart failed him? No, no, it was… it was Eddie’s. Eddie’s heart. And he was going to be okay. He had to! Eddie hadn’t run the Boston Marathon yet. He never went to an auto showroom. He was just starting to open himself to the world. To experience freedom. It couldn’t end like that…</p><p>His legs barely holding his weight, Richie finally sat down, shaking, sweating, his glasses foggy. He didn’t even bother to clean them, as if seeing didn’t matter at the moment. He was far too focused on what happened to think about his current situation, the amount of stress he was experiencing, how he had to force the air in and out of his lungs, again and again, as if he was sharing Eddie’s pain…</p><p>He had to wake up. He would wake up. Richie believed in him. He always had. Biting furiously on his bottom lip, Richie rubbed his legs nervously, unable to stay still for more than a second. Eddie was in this critical situation because of <em>him. </em>Because he didn’t react quickly enough. Because he kept focusing on the dead rather than the living. Because Eddie thought that Steve mattered more to Richie than his own well-being.</p><p>God, what kind of friend was he, to let Eddie see himself that way? Even worse, he loved him, and yet, he didn’t even attempt to stop him. He didn’t let him know enough that Eddie was more important than anything else. That he shouldn’t be so careless, just because it was about Steve. They would have survived a stolen phone. But Eddie… Eddie might…</p><p>Richie couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped his closed-up throat. He hated himself. He hated every fiber of his being, and wished with all his heart for Eddie to make it. Not much of a believer, Richie Tozier, but he still prayed to every possible God that he might know of, ready to offer his own life if necessary. Eddie deserved to enjoy his second chance, to finally get a shot at a free and happy life. He deserved all that, and so much more…</p><p>Richie couldn’t tell if a minute or an hour passed, but it felt too long, too suffocating. He needed to know how Eddie was, if everything was alright. And no one could answer him. He couldn’t even go see him. They needed to keep him in a safe and sanitized environment, and Richie would be a risk, a hazard. He wasn’t even sure if he would get to know more about Eddie’s state today… God. God, why?</p><p>A hand slapping violently his cheek pulled him out of his stupor. Richie’s glasses were knocked out from his face, and he reflexively reached for his skin with his shaky hand, raising his eyes up. His vision was blurry, but he didn’t need it to know who did that. Myra. Of course, Myra was here. She was Eddie’s wife, his next-of-kin. They had to call her.</p><p>Richie didn’t know what to say, what to do. His feelings were a mess, split between anger and shame. He wanted to apologize to her, but also to throw at her the most venomous words he could muster. But, for once, she didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t cause Eddie’s attack. She didn’t even try to visit him again, after the last time. She stayed away, until everything went to hell. Until Richie fucked up.</p><p>Silently, the furious woman reached for Richie’s glasses, handing them back to him. Her gaze was full of fury, and Richie could only take it, knowing that she had every right to be angry. That he fucked up. That Eddie was there because of him. Clutching to her bag, she pointed the exit, letting him know through her teeth:</p><p>“You don’t deserve to be here. Go away.”</p><p>A part of him was tempted to obey. To leave, before the doctor came back, before the terrible news were shared, before he lost everything that mattered to him once again. But he couldn’t leave Eddie alone with her. He couldn’t, not after the progress they made, not after everything they went through. What they achieved, it was fragile, but it could become strong. Permanent. Richie couldn’t allow her to waste Eddie’s constant work on himself, to put him back to the place she thought he belonged to.</p><p>So, he didn’t move. He remained there, and Myra, probably worried to attract too much attention, let him do so, firmly turning her back on him. Right now, they were both on the same boat. Waiting hopelessly for some news. Hoping for the best. But, as soon as Eddie was in the clear, as soon as he could leave the hospital, Richie will make sure that he won’t go back to her. That he would still be free, despite this hurdle, despite everything else.</p><p>She was perhaps his wife, but Richie was Eddie’s friend, and he only wanted the best for him. Even if he fucked up royally. Richie took a deep breath, his thoughts entirely focused on Eddie, trying to stop himself from replaying the tragic moment in his head, again and again. His friend had been so proud to get Richie’s phone back, before he fell unconscious. Looking for his approval. Caring for him.</p><p>Richie needed to have a talk with him. A real talk. It lasted long enough, these secrets, these rotten secrets that almost killed him. He would wait until the doctor told Eddie that he was in the clear, so that he would be sure that his friend’s body would handle the news. Eddie deserved better than the liar that he was. And if he didn’t want to see Richie after that… Well, at least, he wouldn’t be by Myra’s sides. He could trust Bill and Mike, rely on them, until he was ready to walk on his own.</p><p>Richie wanted Eddie happy. And safe. Even if it meant that he wouldn’t be part of his life anymore. Eddie’s well-being mattered more than anything else. It mattered more than Steve’s memory. Richie couldn’t believe the kind of thoughts he was having, but he knew that it was true. Steve was gone. Eddie wasn’t. He needed to live. To live fully, boldly, out of the bounds that Myra set for him.</p><p>Richie wasn’t quite sure how long they remained here, in this uncomfortable situation, but it felt like an eternity when a doctor finally came to them. Myra immediately stood up, forcing the man to follow her, away from Richie, as if he didn’t matter, as if he wasn’t even <em>here. </em>Richie felt a lump in his throat, not daring to take a step forward, trying to gauge Eddie’s state from the doctor and Myra’s expression. He was smiling… It was a good sign, right? Right?</p><p>Soon, they walked away, and Richie was left alone with his fears, his torments. He finally managed to stand on his wobbly legs after a few tries, walking to the closest staff member, asking about Eddie. He still had to wait after that for the person to get some news. So far, Eddie had been in and out of consciousness, but he finally woke up fully, and he was now under full surveillance, monitoring his hearts, making sure that he wasn’t experiencing acute rejection or infection or anything like that.</p><p>When Richie asked to see him, his request was denied. His next-of-kin had been very clear: no visit from anyone, but herself. The man wasn’t even supposed to give Richie any news about Eddie’s state, but he wasn’t heartless, and he refused to let him remain in the dark any longer. Not after waiting for so long. He should go home, the man said. But Richie didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go back to an empty flat.</p><p>He wanted to see Eddie. If he had to wait multiple days for that, he would. Eddie needed to know that he was there. That he was waiting to be able to see him. If Myra took opportunity of his current state to manipulate him, if she took him back… Richie wasn’t sure that Eddie would be able to escape again. He had to believe in him, he knew that, but… but it was so fucking fragile, his self-esteem, his assurance, everything they worked to build and improve over time.</p><p>Richie should have been hungry, but he couldn’t even feel the slight hint of emptiness in his stomach. It was full, full of regrets, full of guilt, full of disgust. Full of fear. Eddie seemed okay, but would it last? Would it make things worse in the long run? What if this event took years from Eddie’s lifespan? From his hearts’ survival? Richie had no way to know any of that, but it haunted him.</p><p>He hoped Eddie was aware that Richie wasn’t too far. That he wasn’t going to give up on him. No matter what. Richie would stay. He would stay, and…</p><p>His phone suddenly rang, and Richie jumped on his seat, clearly startled. It took him all of his willpower to manage to grab his cellphone from his pocket, noticing the familiar name on the screen. Hesitating, he finally answered, Stan’s panicky voice reaching his eardrums immediately:</p><p>“Richie, are you okay? What the fuck is happening? A fan saw you at the hospital, and now you’re all over Twitter. You’re not…?”</p><p>Stan couldn’t even finish his sentence. Richie was able to hear him clearly, his friend scratching his skin raw, unable to stop himself from self-harming. Even though Richie didn’t have it in him to answer, he managed to get a few words out, mentioning Eddie and his current state. It was enough to set his friend in motion, loud ruffling coming from the handset:</p><p>“I’m coming. Patty too. Don’t move.”</p><p>“I… You…”</p><p>“Shh, no objections. Stay put.”</p><p>Stan hung up abruptly, probably too focused on his anxiety to worry about anything else at the moment. Richie distractedly wondered if Stan would warn Bev and Ben as well, but he wasn’t so sure of that. Stan knew him better than anyone else. He was aware that the less people would be involved, the better it would be for Richie to handle the situation and accept the help he was given. Stan was there for his friend, and Patty would be as well, keeping them both in check. God, Richie needed them… He needed them so much…</p><p>He was curled up on his seat, face hidden from the rest of the world, when arms suddenly engulfed him, pulling him into a hug. Richie didn’t even attempt to resist, melting in the attention, coming from Stan and Patty. For a while, they remained like that, not moving, not talking, until Richie mustered a poor attempt at a joke, complaining about back pain. Just enough to let them know that he was open to their comfort. That he wasn’t going to reject them.</p><p>Patty handed him a water bottle, caressing his cheek:</p><p>“You’re in such a terrible state, Richie. Here.”</p><p>Richie didn’t even answer, only grabbing the bottle and drinking hastily from it. His throat felt so dry, suddenly, he could barely handle it. A long sigh escaped him after that, and he rested his back against the chair, incredibly tired. So, so tired.</p><p>“I can’t believe that they don’t allow you to visit him.” Stan clenched his hands into fists. “This is so fucked up!”</p><p>“Yeah, tell me about it.”</p><p>He wanted to see Eddie. Make sure that he was okay. Let him know that he was there. That nothing would change. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t, and he felt so powerless. So useless. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and he apologized quietly, wiping them furiously. He had cried enough. Eddie needed him to be strong. To be there for him.</p><p>“I… I want to see him. I… I have to tell him…”</p><p>“Tell him what, Richie?”</p><p>Patty’s voice was so sweet, so understanding. He could just talk. Share his secret out loud, after so long. But his lips were sealed. How to tell them? How to let them know how much of an asshole he was? How could he confide into them before he even talked to Eddie?</p><p>“Something… Something important…”</p><p>It was enough for now. It didn’t matter what kind of conclusions Patty and Stan were drawing from his words. They wouldn’t be totally in the wrong, if they thought that Richie wanted to confess to him. He was more aware now than ever that his heart was beating for Eddie. How much he loved him. Eddie made his days brighter, his future better, and he wanted to share that with him for the rest of their lives.</p><p>Even if Eddie needed time to fully accept his feelings and reach this point. Even if Eddie never managed to get past their friendship. It would be enough. More than enough. As long as Eddie was happy. As long as he was free. Richie would settle for whatever Eddie was willing to give him. Even if it was nothing.</p><p>Stan bought some food from a nearby vending machine, but Richie couldn’t get himself to eat, his stomach cramped up. He still drank, aware that it was the bare minimum to avoid fainting as well. Eddie needed him awake and ready to bring him back home. With Stan and Patty by their sides, Myra wouldn’t stand a chance. And Eddie would feel safe. Safe enough to stand up to her. To be strong, as he desperately needed to realize that he was.</p><p>And then, suddenly, she was there, right in front of him. Staring at Richie as if he was less than the mud under her shoe. Her gaze full of anger and disgust, she barely acknowledged Stan and Patty’s presence, admitting with a somber voice:</p><p>“He asked to see you.”</p><p>Richie wasn’t sure he heard her right. He glanced at his friends, so that they would confirm that he didn’t hallucinate her words. She really came back to carry Eddie’s message? To allow Richie to see him? Everything in Richie’s body was screaming at him that there was something weird, unsettling, even, about it, but he could only focus on what was about to happen. Focus on the fact that he was going to see Eddie.</p><p>Stan had to help him up, Richie struggling to leave his chair on his own. He should probably eat after that, even if he wasn’t hungry. Eddie was going to worry. And he didn’t need that, on top of everything else. He needed rest. A long, long rest, as long as necessary. Richie would stay here with him for months, if he had to.</p><p>The doctor that accompanied Myra guided him to Eddie’s room, using the trip to give instructions to Richie about what could and couldn’t do, what he should expect. Eddie was barely able to talk, as of now. He was also slightly confused, asking a few times the same questions, forgetting some basic stuff, not remembering quite how or why he fainted.</p><p>“He asked for you when he woke up, you know.”</p><p>Richie wasn’t aware of that. Myra didn’t tell him so. Of course, she didn’t. She probably hated the fact that, as soon as he was out of unconsciousness, Eddie’s instincts pushed him to look for Richie. To call for him, for the safety that he represented for him, his friend. Maybe even more…</p><p>But there was one thing that Richie certainly didn’t expect, and it started with the doctor cursing, speeding towards Eddie’s bed and grabbing a handful of papers from him, despite Eddie’s weak attempt at resisting. The light was dimmed, and Eddie probably had to squint to be able to decipher a thing. He massaged his forehead, visibly hurting, while the doctor scolded him:</p><p>“You’re not supposed to read, you need rest, Mr. Kaspbrak. Your body needs rest. You’ll risk more than a syncope if you keep ignoring your basic needs.”</p><p>Eddie visibly pouted, but Richie didn’t have it in him to chuckle. He was starting to wonder what was written on those files, and he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know… The doctor stepped out temporarily to check on other patients, reminding once again Richie that Eddie needed a quiet and calm environment, putting the papers away before he left.</p><p>Richie didn’t reach for them. He remained still, paralyzed, waiting for Eddie to look at him. To raise his gaze towards him. Richie wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally did, but it certainly wasn’t this… emptiness. This look devoid of life and fight, so far from what Richie ever knew of Eddie.</p><p>His friend’s voice was raspy when he finally managed to articulate, pointing at the files:</p><p>“It’s… wrong…”</p><p>Richie didn’t have a choice anymore. His stomach lurched when he grabbed the papers and finally learned their content. Everything was there. His secret, for everyone to see. For Eddie to witness. It was all neatly compiled, ready to be delivered, to cause havoc. To break the fragile trust that Richie and Eddie managed to build together.</p><p>Richie glanced at Eddie, then at the files, then at Eddie. He wanted to scream, pretend that it was a lie, save himself some time to make it all better. To shield Eddie from the horrible truth. He cursed Myra for bringing those files to him, for endangering Eddie’s recovery, only to get vengeance, to get him away from Richie’s positive influence. And he loathed himself, for not telling Eddie sooner. For allowing him to learn that from someone else. From his wife, nonetheless.</p><p>“Eddie, I… I’m sorry.”</p><p>What was left of hope in Eddie’s gaze vanished, only leaving this emptiness that Richie couldn’t bear to see. He wanted Eddie to get angry, to tell him off, to do anything to let him know that he was still there, fighting, even if Richie had to be his target. But there was none of that in Eddie’s behavior, in everything Richie could see of him.</p><p>His fingers tightened shortly on the sheets, before they relaxed despite himself, head down, defeated expression on his face. He repeated the same words quietly, “It’s wrong”, as if it would finally make it true. As if it would make the papers disappear, the proof vanish. As much as Richie wished that it was the case, he knew that it was impossible. The truth was out, and there was nothing he could do to salvage that.</p><p>“I… I was going to tell you. I swear.”</p><p>He needed Eddie to believe him. To trust him. But how could he, when Richie kept such a secret from him? When he lied to his face, again and again? Their meeting wasn’t a chance encounter. It happened, because Richie arranged for it. Their friendship, it was also his doing. He wanted to get close. To make sure that Eddie was happy. That <em>Steve</em> was happy.</p><p>But Richie didn’t see Steve anymore, when he looked at his friend. Only Eddie. Eddie, who wasn’t looking back. Eddie, who tried to make himself smaller than he already was. Eddie, that he hurt so, so much. He should have told him. He should have trusted him to handle it, in a safe space. Instead, Richie allowed Myra to open the Pandora box. And Eddie… Eddie would never forgive him for that.</p><p>Eddie wasn’t even <em>crying.</em> He had every reason to, realizing that his friend lied to him from the start, that he betrayed him so profoundly, but his eyes were dry. Sullen. It was even worse than everything Richie imagined might happen, if he were to tell him.</p><p>“Eds, I…”</p><p>“Don’t call me like that.”</p><p>There was no harshness to his voice. No anger. He didn’t snap at him, even though Richie would have deserved it. He said those words with a tired voice, full of languor, and, in some way, it reminded Richie about the way he used to handle his grief. Closing himself from everything else. Everyone else. A void that he couldn’t escape from. In which he kept drowning, again and again.</p><p>Eddie rested his head on the pillow, eyes fixated on the ceiling. Richie didn’t dare to move a muscle or to say a thing, stuck with his doubts, stuck with his fears. He had to tell him, to let him know that what was written in those files was only part of the past, that he loved Eddie because he was Eddie. And nothing else. But he couldn’t say a thing, his Trashmouth remaining desperately closed, despite his best attempts.</p><p>Eddie remained immobile and silent for so long that Richie started to wonder if he forgot that he was there at all. The doctor did tell him that Eddie was forgetful and confused, as of now. Maybe he could erase those fucking papers from his memory… Perhaps they could go back to before. Before Myra told him everything. Before Eddie almost killed himself. Richie would talk, this time. He definitely would.</p><p>Finally, a few tears on Eddie’s face, rolling down his pale skin. His lips wobbled, and Richie wished he never heard the shaky sound coming from his friend, voice filled with fear and despair:</p><p>“M… Myra…”</p><p>At this moment, Richie knew that he ruined everything. Even if he could hope that it was only temporary, that it was Eddie’s fatigue and dizziness talking for him, he couldn’t ignore the signs. The telltale signs that he was running right back into his wife’s arms, her influence, everything they worked so hard against…. Because Richie didn’t talk. Because he kept hoping that he wouldn’t have to share his secret. That it didn’t mean anything anymore. But it did… And now… Now, it was all over.</p><p>Richie took a deep breath, wiping his wet cheeks. No. No, it wasn’t over. As long as he was still standing, he wasn’t going to allow Eddie to find himself back under Myra’s abusive influence. Even if he had to get Eddie to hate him for that. He deserved better. So much better. Eddie was struggling to keep his eyes open, calling for Myra again, when Richie got a bit closer, letting him know with a determined voice:</p><p>“I’m not giving up on you. I’ll call you back. I’ll visit. I’ll be there. I promise.”</p><p>Richie wasn’t sure that his promises meant anything to Eddie, as of now. Not after that he realized how much his friend lied to him. But not this time. Richie would be there for Eddie, even if it cost him everything, even if he had to die for that. Eddie deserved happiness. Freedom. Everything he would never get, if he remained by Myra’s sides. If he allowed her to control his life again, after all this time.</p><p>“I love you, Eds.”</p><p>Eddie didn’t answer. He didn’t even react to the nickname, eyelids closing and opening, staring at the ceiling, almost as still as a statue. His lack of reaction was so frightening. Richie could only hope that it was temporary. Even if it meant that Eddie would scream at him, hit him, whatever he needed to process this new situation… Richie deserved it.</p><p>Finally leaving the room, Richie didn’t even bother to glance at Myra or say a word to her. She immediately got the message and went back to Eddie’s room, a satisfied smile on her lips. Asshole. He didn’t know who he was most angry against: Myra or himself? Both deserved to be punished. Harshly. Richie started mindlessly to scratch his cheek, but Stan stopped him before he managed to draw blood.</p><p>“We’ll bring you home. You’re staying with us, Richie. Like it or not.”</p><p>Richie didn’t even attempt to protest. He couldn’t drive. He couldn’t go back home. Back to his empty flat. Without Eddie to fill it with life. With love. Wobbling to Stan and Patty’s car, he rested his head on the windows, watching the world go by without a care. He didn’t know why he finally let out, voice unwavering, as if he was merely talking about the weather:</p><p>“Eddie has been transplanted with Steve’s heart.”</p><p>The car suddenly came to a screeching halt, almost causing an accident in the process. Cursing, Stan quickly pulled over, stopping the engine, before he turned his head towards Richie, watching him with a gaze full of disbelief:</p><p>“Come again?”</p><p>“Honey, I think you heard him right.”</p><p>Richie couldn’t repeat those words. He didn’t have the strength. He was so, so tired…</p><p>“And does he know?”</p><p>Richie nodded, managing to add in a barely audible whisper:</p><p>“Yes. Now.”</p><p>“Now?” Patty bit her bottom lip, glancing at Richie, hoping for a certain kind of answer. “You mean… Now, just now?”</p><p>Richie nodded again, stopping to pay attention when he noticed Stan and Patty glancing at each other. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He wasn’t ready for their scolding, their disapproval, their disappointment… If this conversation didn’t happen, then he could pretend that his friends still had an inkling of respect for him. Love, even.</p><p>Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath, his thoughts devoted entirely to Eddie. Eddie, his Eddie so full of live, devoid of anger, of any reaction to his betrayal… Eddie begging for Myra to be there… Pleading for her to come back. God, what did he do? What did Richie do?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well... The truth's finally out. I'm going to detail it a bit more in later chapters, but Myra basically hired a private eye to get Eddie back, and they managed to get all of that out, for Myra's satisfaction. She was expecting some dirt, but that... That was something. </p><p>Richie will have to do a lot to gain Eddie's trust back, to save him from Myra and himself. Thankfully, he can count on his friends. So glad to bring Stan and Patty back for this chapter! Ben and Beverly aren't very far, promise! Next chapter will be from Eddie's POV, we definitely need to see how he's truly handling of all that. It's...complex.</p><p>With that said, thank you all for your support! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care! And me... Well, let's finally sleep xD. Bye!</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Welcome to the 20th chapter of this fanfic! We're getting closer and closer to the end, it's so weird to think about it. I'm really attached to this story, and it's gonna feel weird to say it goodbye. I'm starting to think about the future, but I don't know quite yet what I'm going to do. I have a few ideas, I just need to think about it a little more c:. </p><p>Thank you all for your support! It has mean the world to me during these tiring times and it still does c:. Your kind words, your kudos and all, it's just a big rush of serotonin, so thank you all for being there. I really appreciate it. I hope I'm able to give it back to you, writing this story and all.</p><p>With that said, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for self-harm<br/>TW for self-loathing<br/>TW for emotional abuse<br/>TW for suicidal ideation</p><p>I think that's all. Let me know if you need me to tag something. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Eddie Bear, you barely touched your plate. Please, can you eat a little more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra’s voice was filled with concern, her eyes fixated on her husband. Eddie raised his head towards her for a second, before he lowered it, focusing on the food he couldn’t get himself to eat. He wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been for the past few days, ever since he left the hospital and they came back home. Ever since he learned the truth about Richie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he tried to push it away, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What he had hidden from him. A lie Eddie kept believing for so long, because he didn’t want to see past it, because he was pathetic and lonely. He should have known that there was something weird about the first time they met, Richie’s insistence to drive him back home, to run with him when they barely knew each other. He should have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet… And yet… Eddie felt his throat closing up painfully, and he tried to keep the tears inside. It didn’t take him long to fail and, soon enough, Myra’s arms were hugging him tight, her chin resting on the top of his head. It was smothering, suffocating, and yet, Eddie allowed her to engulf him whole, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. That she would always be there, no matter what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to use his voice. Of course, Eddie was very tired after what happened, but it was more than that. He barely said a few words, since the last time he saw Richie. Every single one of them was a conscious effort he had to make, something he had to pull out from his foggy mind, past the thick wall in his throat. He didn’t want to talk. Would he be listened to if he did? Would it even matter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, Myra could hear. Everything relating more or less to his health, she would listen to. Without asking him, she helped him up, and Eddie allowed her to take the lead and walk him to their bed. He closed his eyes, pretending to fall asleep, waiting to hear the sound of her footsteps before he opened his eyelids, glancing at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his fingers on the heavy blanket, Eddie let out a long sigh. He didn’t lie. He was exhausted. But he wouldn’t be able to find rest. Sleeping meant going back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes, Steve was there, taunting him, taking Richie away from Eddie. Maybe it would be best, if they could just switch, if Eddie could give his life for Steve to come back. Richie would be happy. And Eddie… Eddie wouldn’t be missed. Not for long, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for his phone, scrolling through the missed calls, the texts he left on read, unanswered. Richie was making most of them, and as much as he wanted to, Eddie couldn’t find it in him to delete them. There were also a few from Mike and Bill, asking about his health, offering him to come. And even one from Adrian, wondering if he was okay, telling him that he could call whenever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lies. They were all lies. Texts sent out of pity, nothing else. Eddie couldn’t believe that any of them truly cared for him. Not after what happened. If he allowed anyone else to get close again, he would suffer. They would trump him once more, and Eddie would fall for it, because he was the worst, because he was so unlovable that the slightest hint of interest meant the world for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was false. As fake as Richie’s love towards him. Eddie’s hand reached for his chest, feeling the beating of his hearts. God, if he could rip out Steve’s, he would. He didn’t want to feel it inside him anymore. And yet, Eddie still took his medicine dutifully. Never missing a pill. It would be so easy to give it all up, to allow his body to reject the heart, and wait to die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tried to convince himself that it would be pointless to attempt to do so, anyway. Myra would see it right away, and she would force-feed him, if needed. But it was just an excuse. He knew very well that he didn’t want to die. That he wanted to live, and do all the things on the bucket list that he started with Richie, and finally feel free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, he knew he wouldn’t do any of that. Because Myra wouldn’t like it. And he needed her. She was the only constant in his life, ready to stay by his side, to care for him, to love him. If he didn’t have Myra, he wouldn’t have anyone else. He would be all alone. And he wouldn’t be able to handle it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help, but wonder how Richie was doing. He was probably missing Steve. The thought made him clench his fists, and Eddie angrily tossed around, resisting the urge to scream his fury away. He wasn’t Steve! He wasn’t, and yet… yet, he wished he was. The man that Richie loved. Someone that so many people used to love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking them up, Eddie learned so much about Richie and Steve, everything that his friend had hidden from him. Covall wasn’t even his real last name, it was Steve’s, and he didn’t take it after their wedding. Just one more lie. He was probably scared that the name “Richie Tozier” would ring a bell, but it wouldn’t have. Eddie had no idea that Richie used to be a comedian, that he was at the head of a production company, that he was such a big name behind the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know who Richie was. Not really. And it hurt to realize that simple fact. He thought of him as a friend, his best friend, and maybe even more. God, Eddie had even started to wonder if he shouldn’t ditch everything for him… If he should leave Myra behind. Eddie bit his bottom lip at the thought, feeling incredibly ashamed. After everything she did for him, he just… he betrayed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left her, barely giving her a heads up, and allowed Richie to convince him that she was bad for him, that he didn’t need her, that he deserved more. And Eddie kissed </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He kissed his best friend, as if there was no tomorrow. And his body still wanted more. But, more than that, his mind and his heart were at war, leaving Eddie puzzled, confused, angry, and, most of all, guilty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still loved Richie, after all of that. He missed him. He missed his arms around him, he missed the feeling of his body whenever they slept together, he missed his stupid jokes, the way he would allow himself to be vulnerable around him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thought pulled an unhappy chuckle out of Eddie. Vulnerable… As if. If Richie had been really truthful, he would have told him everything. He would have told him about Steve. Eddie wouldn’t have to learn that from his wife. From a stupid file she handed him, not so long after he foolishly risked his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hated himself. He hated how much he loved Richie, and couldn’t stop himself from doing so. That a part of him wanted to call him back, to hear his explanations, to hope for something else, something more, a new shot. But it would all be a lie. Richie wanted Steve. That’s why he looked for him in the first place. Because he had Steve’s heart. And it would never change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life was back to normal. Or some kind of normal, at least. Myra set a routine for him, and Eddie followed it dutifully, mindlessly. It was easier to just give up any control on his life. Myra always knew best, anyway. She knew that Richie was bad news from the start. She tried to warn Eddie, and he didn’t listen. He really believed that someone would want to know him more. To befriend him. To love him. Not out of pity, not out of morbid curiosity, not out of a sense of charity. Just because he was Eddie Kaspbrak. But he forgot what it meant, to be Eddie. To be an insignificant piece of shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew very well that all of the progress he had accomplished was now undone. He was back to being meek and fearful, a “Myra-pleaser”, so that she would always love him. So that he wouldn’t be alone. As long as he had her, it would be okay. Just like it had always been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She handled his appointments, bought his clothes, decided what he should eat, when they could leave the house… Every little thing. She knew best. She always did. It didn’t matter if Eddie wasn’t happy, if he wanted something else, if he aspired to lead another kind of life. She knew best. And she was here, and he needed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing he had left for him was his job, and even that, he wasn’t sure he was going to hold on to it very long. Myra didn’t like it. It was stressful, and it made him tense, and it could be dangerous for his heart. Besides, he had awful colleagues, according to her. Especially that Adrian, who decided to show up to their apartment unannounced, dressed like a weirdo, trying to convince Eddie to follow him outside and hang out with him and his husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra didn’t like him. He was loud, obnoxious, a kid that had no idea what her Eddie bear was going through. She closed the door on him, before Eddie had the time to even come up with something to say. Not that he would have told him much. He barely knew the guy. And Adrian… Well, he probably just pitied him and wanted to win some brownie points. He wouldn’t want to hang out with Eddie just because. He wouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it would be best if he just quit. Myra was still working, they had many savings, the inheritance they could rely on, and he could always try to find a less demanding job he could exercise remotely, if needed. She would be so happy if he did. One less thing to worry about. She would have her perfect, obedient husband, and Eddie… Eddie could just let himself go. Away from everything, everyone who wasn’t Myra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie felt very much like a child, attached to his wife at the hip, waiting anxiously for her approval after every word, every action, feeling incredibly lost whenever she wasn’t around. It had been a month since he learned the truth about Richie, and that was enough to make Eddie even worse than before. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he left their flat without her. Did he even do it once, after all of that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help, but wonder if Myra started to see Richie as some kind of blessing in disguise. Every ounce of rebellion in Eddie had been squashed down so easily, leaving no more than a submissive shell. But she wouldn’t think that, right? She didn’t like seeing him so unhappy. She didn’t like it, but at least, he was staying home, and not taking any risks. He was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated and loved whenever Myra had to go to work. Eddie didn’t have to overthink everything he was doing, but he was still anxious nonetheless. He kept wondering if she would know that he spent too much time in front of the TV, if she was aware that he watched a movie that she wouldn’t deem appropriate, if she would just know. Know what? He wasn’t sure. But the thought was enough to make him fearful. He didn’t want her angry. He didn’t want to risk losing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, Eddie was curled up on the couch, gnawing on his fingernails. It was a disgusting habit, and something he would never have done before, but he was too nervous, and didn’t know how to conceal it. He didn’t want to scream at Myra or to break something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she wasn’t around to monitor his behavior, he could at least do that. Bite and bite and bite, endlessly. He knew that she started to become aware of it, that he would probably have a lecture about it soon. He would have to figure out another way to evacuate his nervousness. Until then, he had that, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt, but it was a relief. As long as he was in pain physically, the weight on his heart didn’t feel so heavy. He still had to stop when he drew blood, reaching quickly for a paper towel and handling the flow. It was at this moment that his phone vibrated, once again. He felt it in his pocket, a call happening, probably Richie trying to reach for him once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he felt guilty about it all. Perhaps he wanted Eddie’s blessing to move on, so that he wouldn’t have to feel sorry for him anymore, sorry for the pathetic idiot who really thought that Richie could love him. Or maybe he just wanted Steve back. The thought angered Eddie to no end and, without a second thought, he reached for his phone, picking it up and asking aggressively:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A startled noise was his only answer, for a short while. After so long, Richie probably didn’t expect that he would actually get to hear Eddie’s voice. But he did. And Eddie was pissed. He was so fucking pissed!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… uh… Hello. I… Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he okay? Was he? Eddie laughed bitterly, throwing the soaked paper towel away and sucking quickly on his painful finger, before he finally answered:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m great, Richard. Wonderful. Don’t worry, Steve’s heart is just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, please, let me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Lie to me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strangely easier to talk, now that he had Richie on the phone. Eddie had the feeling that he said more in a few minutes than during a whole month. And it wasn’t over. Far from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fucking stupid, Richie! You lied to me, and I’m not going to fall for that again. Myra warned me about you, she…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s voice was filled with concern, something Eddie desperately needed to hear from him. He was almost tempted to vent, to let him know about his miserable life, to listen to his encouraging words, and find the courage to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, Eddie latched onto the hint of disbelief he thought he heard, and allowed his anger to take the wheel:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Yes, I’m with my wife, and I love her, and I’m so, so fucking happy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he wasn’t. Eddie hated his life, the person that he was becoming, everything about himself. Gosh, he even started to hate Myra, and she didn’t deserve it, not after the sacrifices she made for him. Not when she was the only one caring truly for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re my friend, Eddie. Can you listen to me, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wanted to scream, to lash out, and throw everything at Richie, all at once. But his pleading voice stopped him from doing so. He sounded on the verge of tears… But maybe it was just a ploy. A ploy to get Eddie where he wanted him. And, as much as he hated it, it was working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. I’m listening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Eds. Thank you so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s scream probably pierced Richie’s eardrum, but he couldn’t care less. He didn’t have the right to use that nickname, so gentle, so full of love, after… after… Eddie clutched his chest, trying to keep his breathing under control. He should hang up. He really should. And yet… And yet, he didn’t. He listened. Even if he didn’t want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to tell you everything, I was going to, but there was the incident, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have told me before. Before all of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit on his bottom lip, trying to fight the tears, failing miserably to do so:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you didn’t. And I fell in love with a lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a little while, silence reigned over them, none of them knowing how to keep the conversation, and yet unable to end it. It was finally up to Eddie to say something, to break this fucking silence, and share his thoughts, as he had wanted to do so for too long now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know why I never asked to meet you? The family of the donor, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I guess? It’s… It’s just sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head, even if Richie couldn’t hear him doing it. He didn’t understand. How could he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to know whose heart it used to be. Because whoever it would have been, they would have been better than I could ever be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, don’t say that, please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Richie. Shut the fuck up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have the energy to scream anymore. He was tired. Really, really tired. He wanted to end it all. He wanted Myra. She would know what to do. What to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t try to speak anymore. It was a first, Richie being speechless. A few months ago, Eddie would have laughed, joked about it, and Richie would have been flustered, retorting something crude almost immediately. He missed that. He missed it so much…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about my donor, their past life. Did they have a family? Were they a wife, a husband, a father, a mother, a sister, a brother? Were they loved? Were they useful? Maybe they used to be a surgeon, a firefighter, who knows. I didn’t want to face it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sniffled, wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeve:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want them to realize that the person they loved died for a worthless guy to live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s it, he finally expressed it. The doubt that crushed him ever since he received his new heart. The guilt that someone had to die for him to get a second chance. The awful feeling that he was taking someone’s place, when he was nothing more than a pathetic asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I’m so sorry. I swear to god, you’re not… I never…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you thought, right? When you decided to meet me. Oh, I wonder who’s the fucker who took my husband’s life? I have to make sure they’re not a piece of shit, I have to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence. Richie didn’t try to excuse himself, to pretend that he didn’t have this kind of thoughts. Eddie was right, and he knew it. Richie wanted to gauge him. To decide if he was worth living. If he deserved Steve’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then, you saw how pathetic I was, and you decided that you would have Steve back. But I’m not your fucking husband, Richie! I’m not, and I’m sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to say those last few words, but Eddie hadn’t been able to stop himself. He curled up even more, as if he hoped it would allow him to disappear forever, biting furiously on his pinky finger. God, if only he could be Steve… Eddie would give anything for life to be one of those stupid movies, for a miracle to happen. Steve would come back, and Richie would get to be happy. And Eddie? Well, no one would miss him… He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit. This is fucking bullshit, Eddie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>are my friend! I love you, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I hear you, I see you! You…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lying. You can’t love me. I killed Steve. You can’t love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s mind was a wreck at the moment. He knew he was close to snap and lose himself in a way he never had before. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t hang up. Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I killed Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, you didn’t. It was an accident, a car accident, you have nothing to do with…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He died, so that I would get to live. He was a wonderful husband, a great friend, an amazing person. And I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hit the couch with his fist, but it wasn’t enough. Hitting his leg helped a little. Again. And again. And again. It hurt, it fucking hurt, and he needed it so much! His breathing was quickly getting out of control, and Eddie found himself wheezing, rambling despite himself:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the asshole who thinks that running a fucking marathon will make his life worthwhile, that I deserve to be loved, that I deserve to live, that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do! God, Eddie, you deserve to live, and you deserve to be loved. And I love you, fuck, I love you so much, let me get back, let me help you, please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to say yes. He really wanted to. But he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve Richie’s affection, even if it was fake. He had Myra, and that’s all he would ever have. And he had to be happy about it, because she was caring for him, because she was there, because she…!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie suddenly heard a knock on the door. Fear gripped his heart, and he quickly hung up, curling up on the floor. Myra was home! She was back, and she would know that Richie called him, and that he answered, and that he loved him. She would know! And he wouldn’t have anyone else left. He… He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, p-please, open the d-door!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t Myra. It was… It was Bill? For a few seconds, Eddie remained prostrate, wheezing, shaking helplessly. It took him all of his willpower to manage to wobble to the door, opening it. Bill was there, about to knock on the door once again, looking incredibly relieved when he finally saw Eddie:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh f-fuck Eddie, I was wo…. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stutter suddenly worsened, and Bill found himself unable to say a thing. His actions spoke louder than the words he couldn’t use, and he engulfed Eddie in a hug, tight, desperate. It didn’t really help him to breathe any better, but… but it was so good. Eddie melted in the touch, so kind, so gentle, so loving. Bill’s arms were strong, and it reminded him of…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know who he was apologizing to, but he did, again and again. His legs started to give up under his weight, and Bill supported him, leading him to the couch. Eddie latched onto Bill’s arm as soon as they were seated, gripping it hard, suddenly terrified that he would leave him behind. That it was just a dream. Or another lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was weird. They only started to become friends, and yet, Eddie knew he would be devastated if Bill decided to leave. He wanted to see them so much, he and Mike. But, first, he needed to rest, then Myra became his whole fucking world, and he… he didn’t dare to reach out back to them. To answer their calls and their texts. To accept their invitations. It was a lie. If Myra didn’t appreciate it, she would leave, and, eventually, Bill and Mike would as well. He would be alone. All alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill’s free hand gently caressed his hair, his back, trying to get him to relax. Eddie sighed, hiding his face in his friend’s arm, still curled up, still trying to make himself little. So vulnerable. Eddie felt incredibly fragile, as if the slightest shock would be enough to break him beyond repair. Sliding his bleeding pinky finger between his lips, he mumbled with a childish voice, everything feeling so far away:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t say anything else. He was tired. He needed his friend. He needed someone. He needed Myra. He needed Richie. He… He was lost. He was so lost. Maybe he should just pretend to be Steve? He seemed to be so much better than Eddie could ever be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>deserved Richie’s love. Not Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was w-worried. I was writing, and I… I heard you screaming. I… I had to come, you know? I had to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill was working, and he interrupted him. Eddie was the worst. Truly, he was. Bill shook his head, trying to get Eddie to look at him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be. I’m guh-glad you opened the door, this time. Let me help you. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he didn’t deserve it. And yet, Eddie nodded, allowing Bill to take care of him. To patch him up, prepare him a tea (Eddie actually stood up and followed him in the kitchen, still gripping his arm), to hand him a few biscuits, to talk to him about everything he could think about. Slowly, but surely, Eddie started to feel less confused, more focused, and he realized how he acted, the way he was hogging Bill, preventing him to even think about leaving the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally let go of his friend’s arm, cheeks red, feeling incredibly ashamed:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me. I won’t do that again, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill probably thought that he was weird. Pitiful. He didn’t want his charity. He didn’t want his lies. And yet, Eddie found himself smiling when Bill merely shrugged, a gentle expression on his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D-Don’t worry. I’m happy I was here. And… And Mike and I, we want to be here for you. We missed you. So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill grabbed Eddie’s hand in his, squeezing it tightly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come. Whenever Myra’s not around, you… you can come. I’m wo… I’m working home, so I should be here. And if I’m not, you cuh-call Mike or me, and we’ll meet up, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t sure he deserved it all. He wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t a lie, an act of pure pity from his neighbors. And yet, he accepted. Because he was alone. Because he loved them. Because… Because he wanted his friends back. And… And maybe, he wanted Richie too… Even if he didn’t want to admit it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ever since I started this story, I had this idea that Eddie felt guilty that he was alive, when his donor wasn't. His self-esteem is incredibly weak, so he's convinced that he took someone else's place and that he's ultimately unworthy. That's why he started to run and have this idea of going to the Boston Marathon at some point, to prove himself something, to try to make something out of his life.</p><p>Richie helped him out of this mindset, but after the reveal, Eddie just fell right back into it, even worse than before. Thankfully, Richie hasn't given up, and Eddie has Mike, Bill... and even Adrian xD. I really wanted him to be back, even shortly. I might give him a little more to do in later chapters, I'll have to see if it's possible. </p><p>I hesitated to have Ben and Bev trying to reach out to him as well, but I feel that they don't know him enough to try to do that yet, and that they mostly focused on Richie, being there for him and all. I'll write more about that in the next chapter. </p><p>With that said, thank you all for your support! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone!</p><p>I hope you're doing okay. I'm quite tired today, but I really wanted to write, and I'm happy with what I managed to do. I really hope you'll like it! The story is moving forward a lot, more than I thought it would, but I think it's what needs to happen.</p><p>Thank you all for your support, I'm still going through some difficult times, and your kindness truly helps. </p><p>With that said, here are the TW for this chapter:</p><p>TW for OCD episode<br/>TW for suicidal ideation</p><p>I think that's all c:. Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie expected a moral lesson, coming from Stan and Patty. A rebuttal, some harsh words, anything they could think of, so that Richie would know for sure how much he fucked up. Because he did, no doubt about it. But, surprisingly, he got none of that. Offering him to crash on the couch, they started to organize their life around him, making sure that he wouldn’t have to stay on his own for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t say if he appreciated it or if he loathed it. He was aware that he would quickly start to spiral again if they weren’t here to keep him company and stimulate him somewhat, but he wasn’t sure that he deserved how much they cared for him, and it made him angry. Angry against them, against the world, but, most of all, against himself. God, Richie hated himself so much…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fucked up so badly with Eddie. He tried, again and again, to reach out to him, sending him texts, calling him, so much that Stan and Patty had to intervene, letting him know that harassing Eddie wouldn’t make anything better. That he needed to give him time, even though it was a good thing to tell him that he was still there. Trying to reach him out, but less overwhelmingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few days, Richie remained silent, focused on his own pain and Eddie’s situation, closing himself from his friends and the rest of the world, despite Stan and Patty’s best efforts. The situation was so tense that it finally got Stan to snap, something that Richie wished he would have been able to avoid. If only he started to talk right away…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Richie just heard a series of clicks. A weird and annoying noise, that pulled him out of the foggy state he was in, trying to find sleep, unable to do so. Rubbing his eyes, he got up from the couch, following the sound. Whatever it was, it was fucking irritating, and he needed it to stop! But, as soon as he arrived in the bathroom, Richie’s anger died down, a feeling of pure sadness taking its place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan kept turning on and off the light, using his other hand to hit the wall frenetically, at a pace Richie couldn’t quite figure out. One, two, three, one, two, three, four, one, two… Stan didn’t seem to notice that he was there, muttering something under his breath, until Richie put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, causing him to jump. Visibly startled, Stan glanced quickly at Richie, his eyes slightly glassy, before he went back to what he was doing, whispering with an urgent voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to start again. If I keep doing it, it’s not going to happen. It’s gonna be fine. Just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie remembered the fear on Stanley’s face, when he caught him for the first time in one of his compulsion loops, how terrified he was that Richie would mock him. But he didn’t. He never did. Well, he did mouth off Stan the last time he came to his flat, but Richie didn’t mean it. And he’ll never do that again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s not going to happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wasn’t a therapist. He was merely a friend, trying to be there for Stan in the middle of a critical moment. He was exhausted, only wanted to go back to bed and spend the rest of the night wallowing in his despair, but Richie wasn’t that person anymore. He didn’t want to be the guy who kept putting his own feelings above anyone else’s. Especially his best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a thin line to walk on. Richie didn’t want to dismiss Stanley’s fears and compulsions, but he couldn’t encourage them either. He had to know what he was struggling with. It could be pretty much anything, he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killing yourself. If I get the right number, you’re not gonna kill yourself. If I don’t, you’re going to die, and it’ll be my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t deny that, quite a few times, he thought about it, when he was at his worst. It seemed so enticing, the idea of leaving everything behind him, especially the pain. And yet, he never attempted to do it. As if a part of himself knew that he wanted more from life… The will to live. To feel alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t want to die. As much as he missed Steve, he wanted to keep going. Even if he ruined everything, he had to try, at least. Try to help, try to fix his mistakes, try to make something out of his existence. Something more than what he made of it for now. Eddie deserved better. His friends too. Heck, even Steve!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he had clearer thoughts about it all, Richie realized how sad and disappointed Steve would be, seeing his husband in the pitiful state that he didn’t even try to pull himself out of. As much as it hurt, as much as he wanted to hide and never come out, Richie knew very well that he couldn’t allow himself to do that anymore. And it started with Stan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resting his head against the wall, trying to catch his friend’s gaze, Richie let him know with a gentle voice, attempting to reassure him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to kill myself, Stan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to make sure. I have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan was frenetic, shaky, and Richie wasn’t sure he would be able to pull him out of this state. But he had to try. He had to be there for him, just like Stan had been all this time. Carefully, Richie reached for Stanley’s hand, not attempting to stop him, only letting him know that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucked up. I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m scared I won’t be able to fix things with Eddie. But I don’t want to die. I want to live. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, but surely, Richie got Stan to take a few steps back, squeezing his hand tightly, caressing his face gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, why don’t you pull out one of your puzzles, old man? We can solve the shit out of it. We can even start from the middle, make it harder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wasn’t looking to get a verbal answer from Stan. Only to give him an outlet, something healthier to focus on, to help him out of the loop. When Stanley followed him without resisting, Richie knew he was on the right path. Frankly, he didn’t want to put together a fucking giant bird puzzle at 2 A.M, but he would keep his protestations to himself. Richie knew better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was barely able to put a few pieces together (Richie never had the patience for the giant jigsaw puzzles Stan seemed so interested in), but he didn’t care at all. On the contrary, his mistakes seemed to motivate Stanley, who grabbed a few pieces from Richie’s hands, putting them in their right place, muttering something about his friend being worse than a kindergartner. Richie chuckled at the weak rebuttal, keeping his jokes and his thoughts to himself. He didn’t want to risk fucking up that fragile progress…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, Patty woke up, witnessing her husband and his friend sitting on the floor, attempting to put together one of their biggest jigsaw puzzles. She knew better than to question what happened, and joined them, offering her help to finish their task. Richie couldn’t help but wonder how many times Stan and Patty found themselves doing this kind of thing, for her to not be surprised in the slightest…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t a hint of annoyance or exasperation in Patty’s behavior. Only understanding and love. Love so powerful that nothing could ever destroy it. A love like the one Richie felt for Steve. Like the one he felt for Eddie. Forcing himself to focus back on the present situation, Richie chased those thoughts temporarily. Stan’s well-being mattered most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that night, Richie made a conscious effort to open up, talk, and reach out to his friends. It wasn’t easy, not in the slightest. Richie felt incredibly ashamed by what he had done, how he kept lying to Eddie after everything, the pain he caused him, and the hell he put him through… At some point, he even wondered aloud why Stanley and Patty weren’t berating him for his stupidity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucked up, guys. I’ve been an asshole, to him, to you all. I don’t deserve…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty silenced him, putting her index finger close to his lips, before she shrugged:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucked up, for sure. But I think you’re beating yourself up over it enough, you don’t need to hear it again from anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We want you to get better, Richie. That’s all we ever wanted, this past year. I… I missed you, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan sighed, fidgeting with his sleeves:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you so much. And… And, yeah, what you did was fucked up, and once things’ll get better, I’ll probably have a few choice words for you about it all, but… but all this time, I was glad to know that you were getting better. That you started to go out again, to make friends, to leave your flat…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stanley grimaced, before he admitted, cheeks red, slightly ashamed:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my friend, Richie. My best friend. And I want you to be happy. Like you used to be. Even if...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan hadn’t been able to finish his sentence, but Richie was aware of what he meant. He couldn’t agree, knowing that Eddie’s pain wasn’t worth the happy times they got together, the fact that Richie managed to slowly stop wallowing in his own despair. Stan didn’t know Eddie, but Richie did, and God, he deserved so much more. More than the lies. More than the secrets. More than the prison he was living in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Eddie was happy, so he would be. Even if it meant that they weren’t together. Even if it meant that their lives would remain separated. Richie was ready for this pain. He wasn’t alone anymore to face it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had tried, again and again, to reach Eddie. Calling him, texting him, trying to find the right compromise between letting him know that he was there and not being the creepy stalker he had been from the start… He frankly didn’t expect that Eddie would finally pick up the phone, after all this time. But he did, and this discussion destroyed Richie. He knew he fucked up, but he had no idea how much until then. Eddie was back with Myra, and she definitely had power over him, maybe even more than before. And Eddie… Eddie hated himself so much that Richie wasn’t sure he properly understood a single word of what he said to him. So fixated on the idea that he stole Steve’s life. That he didn’t deserve to be there, since it meant that Steve was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, frankly, at first, Richie wondered why his husband had to die, and why someone got to live thanks to him. It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right. But those events weren’t related. Steve didn’t die for Eddie to live. Steve died, and he was signed up as a donor, and it happened that Eddie was ready and compatible. It could have been anyone else. But it was Eddie. And Eddie deserved this second chance. He deserved to be happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wouldn’t give up on him. But he was aware that he needed to pull himself together as well. That he wouldn’t be able to be there for Eddie, if he was still processing his grief. If he was unable to accept fully that Steve was gone. So, Richie finally decided to reach out to Beverly, a step Stan and Patty decided to let him be the one to make, giving him the control he needed over his future, his recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It started with more sessions at the grief support group she introduced him to, a while ago. Richie merely came back a few times since then, but he was now making it a regular thing, taking the time to listen to his peers without judging them, processing his own feelings, sharing his thoughts. When he finally found the courage to talk about what he had done, about Eddie and Steve, he was met with disbelief, sure, but also a form of understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They knew his pain. What he went through. What it could make you think, make you do. Even if none of them ever attempted something close to that, they knew how enticing this idea was at first. The idea that his loved one was still there, somehow, and that he could make him happy. But Eddie wasn’t Steve, and Richie couldn’t merge them both anymore. For that to happen, he needed more than the support the group provided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he then decided to see a therapist, despite how anxious he was at the idea. It was already complicated to allow himself to be vulnerable with the other support group members, but at least, he could tell himself that they were going through the same thing. That they were all hurt, and trying to get better. But a therapist? It wouldn’t be the same! They would definitely judge! Even more if they recognized Richie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if the man indeed knew who he was, he kept it to himself, only focusing on Richie’s well-being, on what he was willing to tell him, and how to build a future from all of that. Richie knew that it would take more than a few sessions to process it all. Maybe he would have to see someone for the rest of his life. Every session was exhausting, painful, tiring, but it was also necessary. Richie could feel it: he was healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of him didn’t want that to happen. He was scared of what it meant. The pain made Steve felt real, tangible. Letting go of it, it felt like a betrayal. Richie loved his husband, there was no doubt about it. If he was still alive, he wouldn’t have even started to think about another man, let alone allow someone to kiss him (well, aside from an acting role, because it was just pretend). Steve was dead, but the world was still turning, and Richie was a part of it, whether he liked it or not. It was unavoidable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was living. Growing, every day. And if his feelings for Steve would never disappear, he started to realize that there was room in his heart for other people. For his friends, his family… For Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the help of his therapist, Richie started to list all of the ways Eddie was different from his husband. Steve was nowhere near the health nut that Eddie was. Eddie cared about cars in a way Steve would never have. His husband was confident, aware of the amazing man that he was, when Eddie was still discovering it, his self-esteem now plummeting thanks to Richie’s mistakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Richie fooled himself into thinking that they were similar, but it was only down to a few traits, nothing more. Eddie wasn’t Steve. And Steve wasn’t Eddie. They were both their own person, with their own merits, and Richie loved them both. Week after week, Richie progressed, took so many steps forward… But there was still one step he couldn’t take…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite how much he focused on getting better, Richie didn’t forget to be there for Eddie, far from it. Now that the door had been opened, Richie wasn’t begging him to answer anymore. Instead, ever since Eddie first picked up the phone, Richie started to send him a few texts, as if everything was normal, as if they were still part of the same world. “Hello” in the morning. “Good night” when he knew that Eddie was likely to be in bed. He sent him photos of cars and stupid memes, hoping that he was able to make him smile a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a while for Eddie to start to text back. Richie didn’t expect that it would be from a stupid picture, featuring a minor character from the movie “Cars 2” with her eyes on her headlights rather than on her windshield. He had sent him the movie still, with the caption “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nightmare fuel”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he had been pleasantly surprised to get an answer from Eddie. Even if it was just a terrified emoji. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie kept it preciously, marveling over the smiley, as silly as it was. It meant that Eddie wasn’t keeping him out. That he still allowed him in, ever so slightly. It was better than nothing. It was a door creaking open. It meant progress. Hope. So, Richie kept at it, sending every silly thing he could think of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few times, he attempted to apologize, offering for Eddie to meet up. He never acknowledged those messages. Richie wasn’t sure he ever would. Not that he would hold it against him, after everything that happened. It was up to Eddie to decide what to make of his life, of them both. Richie only wanted him to be happy. To get him away from Myra, show him that he didn’t need her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, Eddie wasn’t totally on his own. One of the messages he sent mentioned Bill and Mike, which meant that his neighbors were around. Maybe they would be able to help him more than Richie ever could. Perhaps they would be enough for him. As much as this idea hurt, Richie was okay with that. As long as Eddie was happy, recovering, getting away from Myra’s abuse, nothing else mattered. They would heal, both of them. At their own pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite all the progress that Richie had made, thanks to his friends, the support group, and his therapist, there was still a door he hadn’t been able to open. Steve’s room. Their room. His room. Richie wasn’t sure how to picture it. As long as the door remained close, he knew he would be unable to think about it as anything but his husband’s room or theirs. He had to open it, he knew he had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried, a few times. Even though he was still crashing at Stan and Patty’s place (alternating with Ben and Bev’s), Richie still took the time to come back, trying to psych himself up to open up. It was just a stupid door, a stupid room, it would only take a twist of his wrist, he… he… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Every time he tried, Richie collapsed on himself, crying, unable to open it, to get into this room, this fucking room, and acknowledge the painful truth fully. He couldn’t. He kept trying, again and again, and finally vented his frustration during a session with his support group, furious that he couldn’t manage to do it, angry that he was still unable to take this fucking step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During all this time, he definitely hit it off with Kay, the woman who didn’t take his bullshit the first time he took part in one of their sessions. She understood him, and she never hesitated to share her thoughts, especially the brutal ones. Richie needed that. As much as his friends’ kindness was helpful, he needed someone to confront him over his shit, and Kay was doing that perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like she did, after he finished venting, asking him without hesitation:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you keep thinking that you have to do everything alone, you idiot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her intervention left Richie (and the rest of their group) speechless. Shrugging, she added, poking his cheek with her index finger, causing him to roll his eyes at the annoying gesture:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re there, saying “I can’t open the door” or “I tried, but I can’t” or “I have to do it”, as if you’re the only one who can do that. But as far as I know, your bedroom door doesn’t necessitate your fingerprints to open, right? Or you’re really throwing your money away, dude, if that’s the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckled weakly at the joke, heart beating too fast. He wasn’t sure he appreciated what she was suggesting… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, maybe I do have that kind of security system. You don’t know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last time you came here, you forgot your keys in your car. No, you definitely don’t have that type of system, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were joking, a banter that wasn’t so different from the ones he used to have with Eddie (Fuck, he missed that so much… He missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>so much). But she quickly went back to being serious, and Richie felt his throat closing up:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should start thinking, “We can do it”. Or “We have to do it”. Or “We should try to open it”. Right, Richie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We… "We" meant accepting that he wasn’t able to do it on his own. That he was vulnerable, and that he needed help. Despite the progress he made, it was still hard to get himself to admit it, whenever he wanted his friends around, when he couldn’t handle it all anymore, when he had to cry or scream for a while, and needed them to keep him upright, standing. A part of him couldn’t help, but wonder how long they would accept to support him. What it would take for them to say stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew it would be awful. That he would be a blubbering mess, as soon as he and his friends would be able to open the door, to get into the bedroom after all this time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Their </span>
  </em>
  <span>bedroom. Stan, Patty, Bev, Ben… They already handled so much, ever since Steve died. Richie realized it fully during his therapy sessions, how much they helped, how much they were there, despite the way he was treating them back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They did their best to keep his flat clean, convince him to go out, get him to shower, and take care of himself when he couldn’t find the strength and the motivation to do it… They didn’t give up on him. No matter how much he kept pushing them away. They knew that the Richie they loved was there, behind the anger, the despair, the tears, the vicious words. And that he needed them. Just like he needed them now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he texted his friends, asking if they could meet up at his apartment, they all came. No questions asked. And they waited for him to make a decision, his hand hovering over the bedroom door’s knob, fingers shaking, still trying to do it on his own. But he couldn’t. He needed them. He needed their help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Can you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was wobbling, while Richie was trying to hold back a sob. He couldn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. One by one, they put their hands over Richie’s, getting him to touch the doorknob. And, slowly, they turned it, revealing the room, after all this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing that he noticed was the dust. Steve would have been furious, witnessing the state of their room. It was obvious that no one came there for a long time, and Richie clearly noticed Stan wrinkling his nose, bothered by the dust and the smell. Still, he didn’t step back. He was there, like everyone else, waiting for Richie to make the next move. And, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally came in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wasn’t there. He had never been. It was painfully obvious in the way the sheets weren’t crinkled, how the cupboards’ doors were still locked, moldy clothes rotting away. There was no life in this place. Nothing that screamed Steve. Except… Except for the picture on their nightstand, and the empty glass on Steve’s side. He always kept a glass to drink during the night, if he felt thirsty, not wanting to wake up his husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was there. Next to this picture that Richie hadn’t seen in a year. There they were, showing off their engagement rings to the photograph, a smug expression on their face. They could be so silly, sometimes… Richie caressed his ring fondly, a trembling smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I almost forgot it. This… This picture…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were young. Beautiful. Alive. The last thought was enough to finally get him to break down. It started with a few tears, then a full scream, a scream he had waited for so long to let out. A scream full of grief, pain, anger, acceptance of what he hadn’t been able to acknowledge all this time. Steve was dead. He really was dead, and this room was only special because Richie chose it to be. In the end, it was just a place they shared, like the rest of the flat. Full of memories, sure, but the whole world was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything reminded Richie of Steve. The stairs of their building, that Steve used to run down whenever he was late, even breaking his leg once in his precipitation. The awful restaurant they went to for their third wedding anniversary, making them suffer through the worst indigestion of their life. Their workplace, where they used to bounce ideas off each other endlessly, confusing the hell out of everyone who intruded their office at the wrong time. That one time they decided to have sex in the shower, and Richie ended up breaking his glasses, after he slipped and almost fell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many memories, and they were all there for him to remember, to enjoy, to appreciate… They didn’t have to be painful. They were, sure, they would always be, in some way. But Richie stopped forgetting how happy they were as well. How happy he had been, and how grateful he was for every moment he got to experience with Steve. He was the luckiest man in the world, and Richie wanted to think that he still was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve was dead, but he was still there. He would always be, a memory that Richie would cherish forever. But it didn’t mean that there wasn’t room for anything else. For anyone else. This day, Richie decided to stay home, for the first time in the seven months since the last time he saw Eddie. Fuck, it was so long already… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still didn’t have the meaningful talk they probably should have. Richie was tempted to stalk him, like he did before, to see if he was still with Myra, if he was happy, if he was getting better, but he knew best. He didn’t want to betray Eddie’s trust anymore. In one of his many texts, he swore that Eddie would be the one to decide if Richie would be allowed back in his life, and he didn’t want to break that promise. If he did, even with the best intentions, Richie would truly be the asshole Eddie probably thought he was, and it would ruin everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, even if it hurt, Richie waited patiently. His friends were slowly starting to convince him to move on, to focus entirely on himself and his new beginning, but he still had to make sure that Eddie was okay. That he was happy, like he should have been, like he deserved to be. As long as Eddie wasn’t blocking his number, as long as he was giving him those crumbs, Richie would be there. He wouldn’t give up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he answered his texts, getting slightly more verbal as time went by, Eddie didn’t pick up the phone much, since their last call. He did it thrice, actually. The first time, Richie only heard him breathing, before he quickly hung up, as if he tried to psych himself to say something, but couldn’t. The second time, he barely whispered a “Merry Christmas” before he cut off the conversation, but it was the best gift Richie could have dreamed of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, there was the third time. Eddie wished him a “Happy Birthday”, proving that he remembered, that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They talked for a few minutes, about their life, about everything. Richie was happy to know that Eddie was hanging with Bill, Mike, his colleague, Adrian, and still working. He had a life outside of Myra. It was a good sign. Maybe they’d be able to convince him to leave, definitely. Away from this prison that he didn’t deserve to be stuck in. Away from the pain. Even if it meant that Richie wouldn’t be a part of his life, as much as he wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Richie attempted to apologize, and Eddie wasn’t ready to hear it. He probably wanted to forget for a while what they went through, but Richie knew they couldn’t. They shouldn’t. Eddie hung up, and he didn’t pick up the phone anymore after that. It took a while for him to answer his texts again, to allow himself to be less distant, message after message. Richie still had hope. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things would get better. He knew it. And when Eddie finally called, something he only did once since he had been hospitalized (he did pick up the phone, but rarely did otherwise), Richie was ready, answering with a cheerful smile, using the nickname that Eddie finally allowed him to say, after all this time:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, my dear Eds, Light of my life, you…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was back to his antics, ready to listen to Eddie audibly groaning, but he didn’t. At first, he only perceived Eddie’s tired breathing, a terrified wheeze. Then, his voice, filled with fear, begging in a way Richie couldn’t handle to witness:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich… I… I don’t… I am… Myra…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a few tries to get the words out, and only a few seconds for Richie to run out of the flat, jumping into his car, forgetting everything about his promise. How could he, after what Eddie just said? How could he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t want to die… alone...”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, first thing first... I just discovered that there was a car with headlights eyes in Cars 2 and the character creeped me out, I had to put it in the chapter xD. Here's a picture, to give you an idea: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oZPgSH1jx0Q/VCOqJ7h3eMI/AAAAAAAAHhs/hUTZMIbzrUA/w1200-h630-p-k-no-nu/Screen%2BShot%2B2014-08-26%2Bat%2B1.47.15%2BPM.png</p><p>More seriously, the end of this chapter and Richie opening Steve's door weren't supposed to happen right now, it just kinda did. Like I knew that Richie would have this discussion with Kay, and that he would be able to open it with everyone else, and that I would have this chapter ending at some point, but I thought I would get one or two chapters before that. Well... I didn't xD. The story got out of my hands, once again x). </p><p>Richie's recovering and Eddie as well, in his own way. I wanted to portray them healing, after the previous chapter. At the same time, I didn't want them to get back together so easily, it's just a door opening slowly, and Eddie chooses when to keep opening it and when to close it back. He's in control of that (probably the only thing he feels in control of, in his life).</p><p>And, well... sorry for the cliffhanger, really xD. But it was necessary. I won't tell what happened, but, well, I already pictured a part of it, and I think it's gonna be something, for sure x). Can't wait to write it!</p><p>With that said, thank you all for your support! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p><p>Edit: Can't believe I made a mistake u_u. I was like "Eddie never called", but then I remembered that Richie heard him on his birthday and I definitely can't picture Richie calling him to try to get him to say "Happy birthday". So, he called once, but otherwise, he only answered the phone. Damn, I need more sleep xD. Hope you're doing well, everyone!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! Welcome to the 22nd chapter of this fanfic! With this chapter, we're now over 100k words! What an adventure! I'm still not quite sure when it's going to end, I'm finding more and more things I need to solve along the way before it can happen, so who knows xD? I really enjoy this story, and I'm so glad you seem to like it. Thank you all for your support, your encouraging words mean everything to me.</p><p>I hope you'll like this chapter! Here are the TW for this one:</p><p>TW for panic attack<br/>TW for drugs mention<br/>TW for self-harm<br/>TW for emotional abuse</p><p>I think that's all! Good reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t alone anymore. Ever since Richie called, and Bill visited to make sure that he was okay, Eddie started to realize that there were more people in his life than he previously thought. Myra wasn’t his whole world, even though she probably wished she was. Eddie had friends. Colleagues. So many things waiting for him, outside of his apartment…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, he was there. Still inside. The thought of stepping out made him nauseous, knees weak, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not without Myra’s consent, not without her by his sides. He tried, a few times, fighting against his mind, desperately trying to turn the doorknob. But the world is dangerous, Eddie bear. You could die at any moment. You need to be safe, Eddie Bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra wouldn’t like it if he left their flat. She would be worried. How could she be sure that he was alright, that he was taking care of himself, if she wasn’t there to keep an eye on him? Could he even handle himself without her help? Not so long ago, Eddie would have been able to say that he was. But now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do it. Putting his hand on the doorknob was enough to send him into a panic attack. He felt scared, guilty, and, most of all, angry. Angry with Myra, and, more than that, angry with himself. Was he really so weak and fearful that he couldn’t even go out on his own? In these moments, Eddie missed Richie. The way he always seemed to know how to get him to be brave, to take a risk, and do things he would have never dared to do otherwise… He missed all of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richie lied to him. Duped him for so long, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Seeing in Eddie a person he could never become. Still, Eddie answered one of his phone calls, unable to stop himself from doing so, throwing his pain in Richie’s face. How much he hurt him. How much he broke him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should have been enough, this heated conversation they had on the phone. Eddie told him what he hadn’t been able to dump on him before, and it should have ended there. But it didn’t. Instead, Richie stopped insisting on talking about what happened, and started to send him kind words, a “Hello” in the morning, a “Good night” when he was in bed, and those weird messages. Jokes, funny pictures, everything he could think of to try to make Eddie smile. And more than once, he managed to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a while for Eddie to finally answer. He wasn’t sure why he decided to do so. Maybe because Richie’s meme made him remember the time they spent together, watching movies, talking and ranting over it, without a care of the world. God, Eddie missed those moments… Back when he was still ignorant. Back when he couldn’t even begin to imagine the weight of Richie’s secret, and what it implied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he answered, mustering the courage to send a silly emoji back, Eddie knew that he opened a door, and Richie pushed past it, sending funny messages after funny messages, hoping to get a reaction out of him. Eddie couldn’t help, but wonder if Richie used to be one of those class clowns, attempting to get everyone’s attention by his antics, mostly to feel himself existing. It was clearly working there, because Eddie couldn’t stop himself from answering whenever he got those messages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made it easy to forget what happened, even for a short time. To forget about the hurt, the betrayal, and the lingering sadness. But then, Richie would send him other messages, trying to apologize, offering to meet up, and Eddie remembered. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. So, he never answered. If he acknowledged what happened, if he met Richie, Eddie wasn’t sure how he would react. And he was scared to fall again. Hard. Deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie’s daily life wasn’t about Richie. Or even Myra. First, there was Bill and, of course, Mike as well. His neighbors had been so supportive ever since Bill came to visit, and witnessed Eddie’s full breakdown. Even though they regularly invited him to their flat, they didn’t mind that he only wanted to see them in the false safety of his apartment, when Myra wasn’t around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easier to deal with, the idea that someone would be home, rather than to think about going out on his own. Myra would know where he was, at any time, and that he had his medication close. And if she came early, he could pretend that he had been pressured. The idea made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t help himself. Eddie had to know that there was an out, a way to make sure that Myra would keep loving him, caring for him, be there when no one else would be. He needed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They seemed to understand, coming willingly to his flat to drink a tea, talk a little, keep him company. Still, they regularly offered him to join them in their apartment, if only to let him know that he could accept it whenever he’d feel ready. Eddie wasn’t sure he’ll ever be. He felt so scared, all the time. Scared of the outside world, so dangerous for a fragile person like he was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t shake off this idea anymore. The thought that he was weak, meek, and that the entire world was an endless source of danger, ready to swallow him whole… It haunted him. Kept him home, only daring to venture outside when Myra was there. When she could make sure that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Safe and sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How frustrating it was, to remember the progress he made before. It was all undone. Eddie only managed to do all of those things because Richie was there to support him, to encourage him. He was sure of it. All alone, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t run anymore, he couldn’t buy clothes, he couldn’t… He just couldn’t. Simple enough. He needed someone. He needed Richie, and now that he wasn’t there anymore, he needed Myra. She would never leave him. She would never betray him. He needed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ringtone made him jump, and Eddie grabbed his phone, relaxing when he noticed that the text he just received came from Richie. He couldn’t help, but smile when he discovered the silly picture he sent him, and he immediately answered with a laughing emoji, wondering if he should say more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you smile, Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blushed a little, and apologized, putting his phone back in his pocket. Mike shrugged, a gentle expression on his face. His friend came to visit, while Bill was away, and Eddie enjoyed his quiet presence. With Mike around, his flat felt less like a prison cell, that he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He didn’t feel lonely or scared, when Mike or Bill were there. He was just… relaxed. Natural.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is your work going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike politely inquired, but Eddie felt that he was sincerely interested. That he wanted to know, and that there was no trick behind his words. Unlike Myra, he wouldn’t try to get him to admit that he was tired, that it was stressful, or that he could use some days off. Mike was truthful, so much that Eddie could feel his defenses slipping easily around him. Too easily. It was hard to remember that no one would stay for long. That, for some reason, Mike would leave him behind as well, like everyone else. Myra was the exception. The certainty in this mysterious and terrifying world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a sip of tea, Eddie pondered on his words, before he finally answered, a smile creeping back upon his face:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’re kinda rushing at the moment, but Adrian is really reliable, and we’re managing. I think we’re going to see the end of the tunnel pretty soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was constantly relieved that he didn’t give up on his job, even though he seriously started to consider it, after everything that happened. He almost convinced himself that he was unable to handle it, that Myra was right, and that he should only focus on his health and his well-being from now on. Work offered him an escapade, a moment when Eddie was the one in control. Eddie was one of the best in his field, despite the many leaves he had to take because of his condition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra didn’t like it, but as much as the idea scared Eddie, he still managed to keep his job, working remotely, keeping in touch with Adrian, professionally and, progressively, personally. His colleague was extremely caring, but not in the overwhelming way Myra could be, sometimes. Adrian always seemed to know when Eddie needed to take a break or rant about work or whatever came to him. When it came to talking, Adrian was far from being outdone, and he always seemed to have something in mind he would like to share.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before, it tended to annoy Eddie, but now, he was looking forward to those moments filled with noise and life, so different from the heavy silence inhabiting his flat, whenever he was on his own, Myra away. Adrian’s voice made his home feel alive. More than that, he made </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel alive. Eddie needed that. He needed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good news. It’s pretty quiet at work for me, most of our patrons are students cramming for exams, so we’re trying to keep a calm environment to help them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike glanced at Eddie, a kind smile on his lips, and Eddie knew immediately what he was going to suggest. And how he was going to answer to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should come to the library, sometimes. I’m sure I could find you a few books that you would lo...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hadn’t been able to stop himself from cutting off Mike, the mere idea of leaving his flat making him nauseous. Worse, stepping out of the building! Into a place potentially filled with germs! How to keep himself safe? How to be sure that the book he was holding hadn’t been borrowed by a sick person before? What if he caught something? What if he had to go back to the hospital? What if…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie jumped, startled. He noticed that he started trembling, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. God, he didn’t even leave the couch, and he was already scared. Scared at the mere idea of going out… How pathetic was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay if you don’t want to. You can come whenever, as long as the library is open, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike chuckled lightly, but Eddie didn’t even manage to smile. Fuck, his friend probably thought that he was stupid… Being afraid of leaving his own flat without his wife, as if he was still a child, unable to care for himself in the slightest. Maybe that’s what he was. An eternal kid, forced to rely on Myra for pretty much everything. How could he have thought for a second that he could be more than that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m sorry, I… I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing that Eddie was about to hyperventilate, Mike sat closer to him, massaging his back firmly. The pressure helped him to relax progressively, and Eddie focused on the feeling of Mike’s fingers on his clothes, on his skin, his breathing slowing down. He couldn’t understand why Mike was so patient with him. They were merely friends, and Eddie was pretty sure that Mike could have any friend he wanted, given his kindness and his personality, so much more interesting than his own. Why was he still there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, you’re allowed to take your time and heal however you feel like it. But I think it would do you some good to leave this place for a while, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew that. He knew that, and yet… And yet, he couldn’t. He was scared. So, so scared. What if Myra found out? What if it was the last straw for her? And after that? What would happen? He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N… No, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike was right. He should leave his flat. Like he used to before, without Myra to keep a close eye on him. He should…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could start slowly. You should come to our apartment. Bill’s bringing back Georgie, his brother. I’m sure he would be very happy to meet you. He’s a great guy. You can never be bored when he’s around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Bill’s brother was there, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to visit Eddie so easily. He was probably going to be busy, given that he couldn’t see him very often. If Eddie remembered it well, Georgie was working on a cruise, and the moments he wasn’t on the sea were few and far between… Eddie would feel horrible, if Bill forced himself to spend less time with his brother because he worried about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it would be pretty weird to ask him to come here, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie wouldn’t get it. Why should he hang out in some weirdo’s apartment, when he was visiting his brother? Eddie wouldn’t really know how to deal with it either, to be honest. He wasn’t used to socializing with people younger than he was, apart from Adrian. And he doubted that Georgie would enjoy listening to him ranting about his work endlessly…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meeting at Bill and Mike’s place seemed the logical choice. But it meant that he would have to get out. And he… he was scared. He was really scared. Gnawing on his fingernails, a bad habit he hadn’t manage to shake off, Eddie admitted with a weak voice, looking at Mike worryingly, anxious about his answer:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t think I can. I’m not… I need Myra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s smile faltered at his words. Bill tended to do the same, whenever Eddie mentioned Myra. The walls were thin, they could easily hear her, especially since his wife wasn’t really trying to be discreet. He wondered if she was doing it on purpose, to make sure that everyone knew that she was there, controlling every aspect of his life. No, taking care of him. That’s what she was doing, right? </span>
  <span>Taking care of him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing it gently:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about it, okay? Bill would really appreciate it. And you’re gonna love Georgie, I’m sure of it. Everyone does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shifted on his seat, feeling uneasy. A part of him really wanted to agree to a future meeting and start to plan it. But he couldn’t shake the idea that he was hurting Myra by doing so. That she would think that he was safe at home, when he definitely wasn’t. Even if he was nearby, in the apartment next door. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he knew he would definitely give up on the idea if they talked about it. Myra would know what to say to keep him inside. And Eddie wouldn’t disobey. He wouldn’t dare to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re braver than you think. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie’s words came to his mind, and it was exactly what Eddie needed to take a leap of faith, blurting out suddenly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could go now. To your flat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie quickly put a hand over his mouth, but it was already too late. Mike waited for a few seconds, allowing him to retract if he wanted to. Eddie’s heart warmed up at the thought. He really didn’t deserve someone like him in his life… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was tempted to pretend that he didn’t say a thing, to stay in the safety of his home, away from the rest of the world. And yet, Eddie repeated, hearts beating fast, sweat rolling down his back:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could… We could go to your flat. If you’re okay with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s smile would be enough to melt any iceberg, Eddie was sure of that. His neighbor nodded, standing on his feet and stretching his limbs:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I’m okay. Bill and Georgie should arrive pretty soon, maybe we could batch some cookies for them? I could use a hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t much of a cook, on the contrary. Myra was always the one preparing their meals, and he never really questioned it. But now that he was thinking about it, Eddie wondered if she would even allow him to do so. Maybe she’d be scared that he might cut himself or trigger an allergic reaction or whatnot… Strangely enough, the thought compelled him even more to leave the flat and attempt to help Mike, when it only fueled his fear previously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was now determined… And yet, he found himself paralyzed when he reached the door, his breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t feeling so brave anymore, not when he was standing right there, about to leave his flat without Myra, when he hadn’t done so since… since the last time he saw Richie. His will crumbled, and Eddie took a step back, shaking his head:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t, I can’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was terrified. But, more than that, he was mortified. He was forty, for fuck’s sake! Why couldn’t he just go out? Why did he have to rely on Myra for everything? Why was he so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>weak?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike opened the door, stepping out and handing out his hand, allowing Eddie to grab it if he wanted to. He wasn’t alone. He just had to follow Mike. He… He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wanted to cry. Mike’s kind understanding made him feel even worse, and it didn’t take him long to break down when his friend left. God, he was the worst…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Georgie’s leaving tomorrow. Our door is open, if you want to join us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pondered on Bill’s text, walking in circles in his flat. The entire week, he tried to convince himself to leave, to open this fucking door and knock at his neighbors’, finally making Georgie’s acquaintance. Mike and Bill even came a few times, knocking at the door, but Eddie hadn’t been able to bring himself to open, knowing that they would invite him over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, Georgie came with them, Eddie seeing him through the peephole, and it had been enough to cause him a full panic attack, so violent that he hadn’t been able to relax on his own and had to call Myra urgently, gripping her as if his life depended on it. What would he think, if he opened the door and found himself unable to join them? He would probably think that he was weird, stupid, and, even worse, pathetic. And Eddie couldn’t fault him for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was suddenly tempted to call Myra and ask her for permission. Maybe she would say “yes”, even if she wasn’t really okay with the idea? She would probably sulk afterward, but, at least, she would know. And Eddie wouldn’t have to worry so much… he… he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrated. A message from Richie. It was a video, a short clip from an obscure animated movie Eddie had never heard of. As soon as he played it, Eddie was surprised to hear Richie’s voice coming out of the main character’s lips, a weirdly shaped bee who said out loud, with a wink at the audience:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bee-lieve in yourself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow, unable to know if he was supposed to laugh or be confused. His phone vibrated again, and Eddie quickly read Richie’s follow-up message, unable to stop himself from smiling fondly:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I did some voice-acting on the side, a while back. Bev sent me this link, and I thought you’d like it. The clip, not the movie. The movie is awful, never watch it. Anyway, Benny the Bee is right: </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>bee-lieve in yourself, Eddie. And don’t forget your vitamin bee ;).</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let out a long sigh, guessing that Richie probably woke up from a nap or something, and wasn’t really at his strongest when it came to jokes for the moment. He still managed to get a smile out of him. Hesitating slightly, Eddie played back the video, closing his eyes and listening to Richie’s voice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bee-lieve in yourself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few repeats, Eddie could almost forget that Richie wasn’t really talking to him, that he was just playing a stupid character in a stupid movie. Believe in yourself. You’re braver than you think. You can do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie took a deep breath, clutching to his phone briefly, before he finally typed a message to Bill.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m coming.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing in front of the door was the hardest part, as always. Even though the act felt ridiculous, Eddie played back the video, again and again, until he managed to put his hand on the doorknob and turn it. The outside world greeted him, and, guided by Richie’s voice as if he was there, leading him in this foolish act, Eddie took the first step. And the second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was out. He left the apartment, after so long… It was terrifying. And exhilarating! Eddie found himself laughing nervously, swaying on his feet. God, he was outside… He fucking left his flat! The uncertainty was quick to wrap him up again, and he ran to Mike and Bill’s apartment before he changed his mind, knocking quickly on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill greeted him, much more enthusiastically than Eddie anticipated it. He let out an uncontrollable squeal when his friend suddenly hugged him, Bill unable to stop himself from laughing at the sound that came out from Eddie’s throat. Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning for the show, but he felt warm, held in his friend’s arms. Bill really seemed happy to see him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-Come inside! Georgie’s really impatient to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing that Eddie inevitably noticed when he followed Bill to the living room was Georgie, sitting next to Mike, and, more precisely, his right arm. His artificiality, specifically. Bill told him before that his brother was an amputee, but his eyes still wandered despite himself, and Eddie found himself staring awkwardly, resisting the urge to comment on it, trying to figure out how to go from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Georgie was quick to break the ice. He whispered something to Mike’s ear, causing him to roll his eyes. He complied nonetheless, grabbing Georgie’s prosthetic arm that he previously took off, walking towards Eddie with an embarrassed expression on his face. Georgie had to insist for Mike to go along with the joke, holding out the prosthetic arm towards Eddie, encouraging him to shake it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t hesitate, giggling despite himself, while Bill let out a long sigh:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to f-forgive my brother. He can be a handf…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill seemed to realize what he was about to say and stopped himself immediately. Grinning victoriously, Georgie stood up quickly, joining them, nudging Bill:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how much he insisted, Bill resisted. As an only child, Eddie found himself terribly envious, wishing he could have had someone like Georgie or Bill by his sides, all this time. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone, if he had a brother or a sister all along...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Georgie finally gave up, putting his arm back in place, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He glanced at Eddie with a curious stare, who gulped at the sudden attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re the mysterious neighbor I heard so much about! Sorry about the joke, I’m gonna introduce myself properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie extended his left arm, allowing Eddie to shake his fleshed hand. His heartbeat accelerated a bit, wondering what Bill and Mike might have said about him. Did Georgie know about his wife? His condition? His inability to care for himself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m George Denbrough, but you can call me Georgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edward Kaspbrak. Eddie for short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Eddie could even think about adding something, Georgie spoke again, quickly, seemingly quite the chatter:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill’s the writer, and I’m the sailor. Can you believe he makes more money than me with his sappy books? I could work a whole life, and I wouldn’t win as much as he does whenever he releases one of his stories. Truly, life is unfair. I’d give my right arm to make that living.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie paused a second, before he popped out his arm again, handing it out to Bill:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. Give me your money now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a single answer, Bill slapped the back of Georgie’s head playfully, and Georgie snorted. Bill apologized once again, inviting Eddie to sit down:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that. Once he’s started, it’s impossible to stop him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shrugged, glancing at Georgie and offering him a shy smile. He didn’t mind the jokes. On the contrary, he admired the way Georgie could laugh off his disability, as if it was nothing. Eddie wished he could do so. He kinda did, sometimes. With Richie. But now that he wasn’t there anymore…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Visibly noticing Eddie’s sudden sulky mood, Georgie took upon himself to distract him from his thoughts, telling him excitedly:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill and Mike really hyped you up, Eddie. All week long, they were like, “Oh, I bet Eddie’s coming today!” and “he’s a very good friend, you’re going to love him!” and whatnot. I almost started to expect Santa Claus, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let out a nervous laugh, squirming on the couch. Really? They wanted that much for him to visit? If Georgie thought he was exceptional, he was in for the biggest disappointment of the century.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me… You’re a movie star? A secret agent? A crown prince? Come on, sell me the part!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s first instinct was to tell him the plain truth. That he was a risk analyst, married, and definitely the less interesting person Georgie ever met. Myra never really appreciated his attempts at joking, and Eddie progressively believed that he didn’t have a funny bone in his body, not even a hint of it. But he remembered Richie, Richie and his stupid puns, Richie and his raunchy jokes, Richie who loved listening to his retort, who enjoyed their bantering so much, and he allowed himself to relax, to let go of his uptight behavior, of his fears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting on a straight face, Eddie waited for a second, before he answered, using the most serious voice he could muster:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not supposed to say it, but I’m a special agent, working for the…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie hesitated, feeling extremely silly, before he finally finished his sentence:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Army.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, silence fell over them, before Bill audibly groaned and Georgie laughed out loud:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right, I love your friend! He’s so... hand-earing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s part of my ch-arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-Please, no more!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill’s despair was clearly visible, while Mike was biting on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. Eddie and Georgie glanced at each other, grinning in complicity. Eddie started, trying to keep his giggle under control:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose we better stop now. Otherwise…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One shared look. That’s all it took for them to get in sync, achieving poor Bill with a merciless pun:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll never hear the HAND of it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie broke down in laughter, unable to stop himself from doing so. God, it’s been so long since he allowed himself to be silly like that… He missed it. He really missed it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie spent the best hours of those lasts months, but it had to end at some point. Myra would come home soon, and Georgie had to get up early the next day to go back to work. Bill and Mike were right, Eddie really had a great time, and he enjoyed Georgie’s company so much. He had been tempted to accept when the little guy invited him to come on one of his cruises, but Eddie knew better. Myra would never agree to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting on a boat? How dangerous it was! And what if her Eddie Bear had a stroke? On the sea, so far from everything… No, no, absolutely not! Carried by his thoughts, Eddie barely noticed that he reflexively started to make sure that nothing would allow Myra to guess that he had been out. The fear was still there, so pregnant that it was suffocating… And Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aggressively, he threw his shoes out of the cupboard, messing the doormat on purpose. She would definitely notice… Good! Eddie only went to see his friends, it wasn’t the end of the world! She had no right to hold it against him, he wasn’t a kid! He was an adult, and if he wanted to leave his flat, then so be it!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was fuming when Myra finally came home. And she barely had the time to ask him where he had been before he finally exploded, letting out everything he kept hidden all this time, afraid to lose her:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I left, and no, that’s not your fucking business! You know what? I went to a fucking drug dealer, and I bought weed, and now I’m high as shit! I did some lines of coke on the side, on the house, he said! I also robbed a bank, you want the footage, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did she imagine that he was doing, exactly? Why couldn’t she just let him live his fucking life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice was wobbly when she finally spoke up, and Eddie started to feel a hint of guilt attempting to invade him:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair, Eddie. I’m your wife, you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guilt was washed out as quickly as it appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re my wife! My… wife! Not my caretaker, not my mother! I’m not some fucking child that you can keep in, because you said so!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what? I’m just supposed to give you my blessing, then? Go on, go meet with your friends, endanger yourself! After all, it never ended badly, right? Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a low blow. Eddie spent so much time with Richie, and nothing ever happened, until… until bad luck struck, and they had to deal with the aftermath. But it wasn’t Richie’s fault, and it didn’t mean that he was made of glass. He just had to be careful. And he was! He had always been!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie forced himself to take a deep breath, knowing that he was about to scream at her again. She would probably cry, and attempt to use that to get him to give up. To go back to their comfortable dynamic, where he just had to let her control everything… But he didn’t want that anymore. He had left the apartment, and nothing bad happened. He had a good time. A great time, even!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not some dog that you can keep on a leash, Myra. You can’t fault me for leaving the flat, and I don’t have to wait for your permission to do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you? Who did you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t listening… Eddie had the feeling that he was talking to a wall, and he didn’t like it one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you hear me, Myra? You can’t treat me like that anymore. It’s over!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands were suddenly all over Eddie’s face, squishing his cheeks. For a second, he felt like a little boy again, his mother hovering over him and trying to get him to admit that he did something that she deemed dangerous. He shook his head, chasing the feeling away. He wasn’t a kid… He wasn’t weak… And he was in the right. He was brave. Braver than he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you with that man? Richard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing Myra’s wrists, Eddie pushed them away, a bit brutally. He winced when she let out a painful noise, unable to determine if he had been too violent or if she was merely attempting to guilt him and mellow him out. It wasn’t going to work anymore… It wasn’t!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if I was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see Richie again. If he did, he would have to face what happened, and he didn’t know if he had it in him to forgive his friend… or whatever they were. If he should forgive him at all, in fact. Richie lied to him all along. And yet… And yet, he missed him. He missed him so much…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was still deeply confused about Richie. And Myra knew it. She let out a sigh, caressing his face tenderly, her touch causing him to shiver:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie bear, you can’t trust this man. You know that, right? He hurt you. He lied to you. He used you. You don’t need him. You have me. You only need me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed… He needed… Eddie shook his head, hugging his own body, trying to give himself the comfort he couldn’t get from Myra. If he accepted it, it would be all over… Despite how vulnerable he felt at the moment, he couldn’t give up. He had to resist…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you, Myra. I never asked you to protect me from Richie, from anyone else! He would have told me everything if you didn’t meddle! Everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if! I saved you, Eddie! I saved you from this awful, terrible man, who only wanted his husband back! You…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra’s sentence suddenly came to a halt. Eddie could see her thinking, and he started to worry about her conclusions…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he do something to you? He tried to make you his husband, he might have… he might have groomed you, or touched you, or ra…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“SHUT UP!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t want to hear her say that. He couldn’t listen to her saying that about Richie! His hands tightening into a fist, he hit his own legs in an uncontrollable motion, repeating desperately, angrily:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, shut up, shut up! You know nothing, you…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the one who kissed Richie! Who made the first move! Richie had been nothing, but respectful. Eddie would have never felt his lips against his own, if he didn’t act first! Richie… Richie wasn’t… He… He loved him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words hung in the air, silence falling over them. It took Eddie a second to realize what he just said. To Myra. To his wife. God, he… he just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were filled with tears. Eddie knew them sincere. They fought, a lot, but he never… he didn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m so…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra’s voice sounded defeated. Utterly defeated. She walked past him, towards their oom:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t eat a thing. Eddie suddenly wanted to make sure that she wasn’t hungry, that she was okay, but he didn’t say a word. He almost forgot to take his medicine, so obsessed with the words he let out. The unspeakable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t stop thinking about it, shaking, wheezing. Unable to find any sleep, he spent the rest of the evening and the night in the living room, curled up on the couch, attempting to find any comfort in his own arms, to no end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the morning came, Eddie naively thought that it would just take an apology to make it alright. That everything would be back to normal, his reassuring normal, the routine he couldn’t imagine himself living without. He took upon himself to bring Myra her breakfast, as a sign of peace. But when he arrived in their room, it was only to see her closing a large suitcase, wiping her tired face with her sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M… Myra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was weak, almost inaudible. It took him all of his willpower to not drop the tray, managing to put it aside. His hearts were beating loudly, as if they were trying to get out of his rib-cage. She wasn’t… He just had to apologize, right? Everything was going to be alright. He wasn’t going to be alone. She promised him… She promised him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myra, I’m so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s not sincere, and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra sat on the bed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> bed, and Eddie wanted to drop on his knees, begging for her forgiveness, forgetting everything about his previous rebellious streak. He… He didn’t think… He couldn’t lose her, right? They were married. She loved him! He… He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra let out a weird laugh, sniffling afterward. Eddie felt incredibly ashamed. Here he was, begging for her to stay, after everything she did, everything he said. But… But, without her, he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced up at him, and Eddie was paralyzed, at her mercy, her fury literally pouring out of her dark gaze. He thought she would scream at him, maybe even hit him, but she suddenly calmed down, hunched over, as if she was carrying the world’s weight on her shoulders:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s always been about you, right? Only you. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She played nervously with her hair, almost tearing it out. Tears rolled down her cheeks, quietly. Eddie sat next to her, unsure of what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only ever asked you two things, Eddie. For you to love me, and to take care of yourself. That’s it. I put up with everything. Your moods, the treatments, the lack of any conjugal life, the endless routine… I thought it was all worth it, because it was for you. Because I love you. And you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra snorted, ceasing to torture her hair, picking viciously at her clothes and her skin instead. So much anger, barely under control…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared to lose you. I’ve always been scared to lose you, Eddie. Remember that night you thought you could handle your alcohol, and you almost die on all of us? On me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded quietly, squirming on the bed. He didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to erase what he said, and go back to what used to be. Put her clothes and the suitcase back where they belonged. He needed her. He needed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You almost died, Eddie. This party, it was a date, our date, and I was there with you. And I thought, “Well, it’s just a few drinks, it’s not going to hurt, right?”. But you collapsed, and me, your mother, and everyone else… We thought you were going to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra was visibly shaking, and Eddie attempted to give her some comfort. But she pushed him back, and Eddie winced, not knowing how to handle the reject. Myra never refused his affection. Sometimes, she could stop talking to him for hours, but she never rejected him. Never… He… He didn’t know how to handle it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was with your mother at the hospital, waiting to hear from the doctors. I was so scared. You know what your mother told me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was hoping that Sonia hadn’t been that bad, that she merely let her know that she was worried about him, but he knew better. His mother… His mother was a monster. And Myra had been one of his victims, as he used to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you died, it would be my fault. I was eighteen, Eddie! Eighteen! I was… I was fucking convinced that you were not going to make it, because of me. But you did. And you became my responsibility. Your mother made sure that I would never forget that, again and again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie finally managed to get a few words out, swallowing painfully:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… You never told me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t. He never thought… He was convinced that Sonia and Myra were getting along just fine, more than fine, actually. But, all this time, his mother poisoned her mind, feeding her anxiety, her worries, until something broke in her. And he never suspected it. Never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired, Eddie. I’m really, really tired. And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t handle being in a waiting room anymore, wondering if you’re going to die, what I should have done to save you. I can’t stand the fact that, every time I’m leaving you, I’m absolutely convinced that you’re going to die. And that I won’t be there for you when it happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myra stood up from the bed, grabbing her suitcase. Eddie whimpered, following her reflexively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hate me. And you’re ready to kill yourself for a man who only ever lied to you. I only asked you two things, and you can’t even give me that. I’m done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She meant it. He knew it. He knew it, and yet… And yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M… Myra…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking past him, she headed for the exit door, stopping for a short moment:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. Die for all I care. I wash my hands of it. See you in court.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he had the time to beg again, she closed the door. And she was gone. She was gone! Myra was gone! Eddie felt his breath caught in his throat, and he started to wheeze again, shaking, unable to process what just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, no…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t. She was the only certainty in his life, the only person who would always stay, and she… she left. She left. She left. He was alone. He was all alone. Eddie screeched, banging desperately on the wall, trying to get Bill and Mike’s attention. But they weren’t here. They weren’t here to hear him. To support him. To carry him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was alone. Alone. Alone. Eddie curled up, rocking on himself, thoughts on repeat. He was alone. He couldn’t breathe. His chest, it hurt… His hands, they were… they were swelling, right? He was dying. He was… He was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know if he would be able to say a word, when he finally managed to grab his phone, his fingers reflexively typing </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>number. He needed him. He needed him. He… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice. Not just a fucking recording or a stupid. His voice, on the phone. Eddie clutched to the object, rocking even more. He needed him. He needed him so much. Richie…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich… I… I don’t… I am… Myra…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t even know what he was saying. He just needed him there. By his sides. Right where Myra was supposed to be. He was scared… He was so fucking scared!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t want to die… alone...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to die. He knew it. And Myra wouldn’t be there. But Richie… Richie would come… Right?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well... That was a long chapter. And I think a big chonk of it will be worth the talk. Especially Myra. For those wondering, my idea was never to apologize her behavior, merely to explain where she's coming from. I think she was already an overprotective person, who was deeply traumatized by Sonia's guilt-tripping behavior, and started to obsess unhealthily about Eddie's well-being after Sonia's meddling and Eddie's incident. </p><p>Eddie has been used to Sonia's "care", and he never questioned the way Myra acted towards him. It was his normal, and he didn't see anything wrong with that for a long, long time. I wanted to explore their relationship differently from how I put it in my previous fanfic, and flesh out a bit the tiny part we were able to see Myra in the movie. I think she's a person with terrible circumstances, who made all of the wrong choices she could have made. She could have seek for help, she could have met a therapist, she could have done pretty much anything else than how she choose to act with Eddie, but she didn't. And it didn't end well.</p><p>Eddie's really traumatized, at the moment. No matter what happened, he always thought that Myra would always want to stay with him. Even when he started to think about staying with Richie, he never envisioned her rejecting him, and I think it's something he's not equipped to handle at the moment. Eddie has a lot of issues, and I think they're really coming out now. Richie's going to have a lot to deal with... And Eddie as well. Healing is gonna be a tough and difficult process, for sure...</p><p>I hope you appreciated it. The chapter is longer this time, I'm usually writing around 5000 words, but I couldn't end it there, so I kept writing a bit more. And now, I'm really tired xD.</p><p>With that said, thank you all for your support! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to read your comments! If you're a bit shy, just a little "kudos" or a "&lt;3" is enough, it will let me know that you read it and appreciate it c:. You can also leave a kudos, if you feel like it. Have a nice day! Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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